#i was p neutral about my body before this but i’ve been straight up crying about this for most of the day

[marimossy]

tumblrdotcom how to politely tell someone that every time they ask if i “have enough space” when i sit in the back seat it makes me want to die? without offending them?

[chicgeekgirl89]

Late

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

A/N: Thanks as always to @bluenet13 for beta reading!

Read on AO3

T.K. was late. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be running late; when you worked as a civil servant the end of the day was determined by when the work was done, not what the clock on the wall said. Dating someone who understood that was rare, a gift. They understood and forgave the tardiness without malice.

He’d texted, telling Carlos to go ahead and get a drink and order an appetizer if he wanted. But Carlos waited, anxious to see his date (boyfriend? booty call? friend with benefits?). It had been a long day and he’d been looking forward to this evening since T.K. had texted and asked him about it two days ago. That was a step forward, T.K. asking him out instead of the other way around. It had to mean…something, right? Maybe? 

Oh god, his sister, Francesca, had been right when she told him he was hopelessly gone on this guy. Her actual comment had included a few more swear words and a surprising amount of sexual innuendo, even for his sister, but the message was the same: He was in love with a guy who liked him back. And he was doing a pretty terrible job of figuring the relationship out.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” T.K. slid into the seat across from him, interrupting the gymnastics of his mental anxiety.

“No worries,” Carlos said, offering up a smile. “I got you a sparkling water and ordered a cheese plate.”

“Great, that’s great,” T.K. said, fidgeting in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortable.

Carlos hadn’t known T.K. for long, but the man read like an open book. He could tell something wasn’t right. “Everything okay?” he asked as T.K. picked up the menu and flipped it over without reading it before setting it back down again.

“What? Yeah, yes, yes everything’s fine,” he said, picking the menu back up again.

Carlos studied him, feeling his leg bounce up and down under the table. “You sure? You seem on edge. Rough day at work?”

T.K. set the menu down again and schooled his face into what Carlos assumed he thought was a neutrally pleasant expression, but was really a smile that strained around the edges. “No, I’m good. Sorry. So, what are you thinking about? The filet? Or actually the salmon looks really good. With the lemon sauce?”

Carlos let T.K. chatter his way through dinner about inane subjects such as the different types of hose nozzles, his Dad’s medicinal tea collection, and how to properly hail a taxi in New York. Carlos hmmed and nodded in all the right places, all the while mentally going through a list of possible reasons for T.K.’s uneasiness. A difficult shift seemed most likely, but T.K. had denied that. Could something have happened to someone he knew in New York? Or was there…was there someone else? He knew about T.K.’s recent horrendous break up, but was it possible that whoever he’d left behind had come calling? It happened more often than not, a quick rebound and then back to the previous relationship, he’d seen it time and and time again.

His heart squeezed a little bit at the thought and he mentally shook himself. T.K. had given him no indication that things between them were off, he shouldn’t assume and possibly fabricate a problem for himself that didn’t exist. 

They finished their meal, declining desert and coffee, and headed for the parking lot. “So,” Carlos finally said, his first word in quite a while. “Did you want to come over or…?”

“Yeah,” T.K. said far too brightly in the fakest possible way. 

T.K. seemed to have run out of bizarre facts and mundane topics to talk about because he was quiet on the drive back to Carlos’, seemingly lost in whatever was going on in his head, fingers absently playing with his phone, turning it over and over in his hands.

He didn’t even move when they stopped in the driveway, eyes staring straight ahead out the windshield. “T.K.,” Carlos said softly.

He startled and cleared his throat. “Hey, sorry.” He flashed another fake smile and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Carlos’ lips, quickly trying to turn it into more.

Carlos let him for a moment, not pulling back, but not fully giving in either, still trying to get a read on what was going on tonight. The current situation suggested it had nothing to do with them, which was a relief. But something was still wrong.

“Should we take this inside?” T.K. asked a moment later, his hand sliding up Carlos’ thigh, even as the enthusiasm didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Carlos cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to?”

That got T.K.’s full attention and his brow furrowed. “I—yes. Yeah I wanted to come over and be with you.” He leaned over and kissed the tip of Carlos’ nose. “Come on.”

They walked inside and for once Carlos let T.K. take the lead as they landed on the couch, lips locked together, hands in each other’s hair, running up and down each other’s bodies. But it wasn’t fast and hard or even slow and gentle it was just…as if T.K. was going through the motions. And Carlos was not okay with that.

He pulled away, sitting up, putting distance between them. “What’s wrong?” T.K. asked in confusion. “You okay?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

Carlos fixed him with a firm look. “T.K. I want to have sex with you, I do. But I’m a big fan of enthusiastic consent. And right now you’re consenting but…I’m kind of missing the enthusiasm.”

T.K. sighed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I should have just gone home.”

Carlos felt a pang of sympathy as he watched the weight of whatever T.K. was dealing with settle fully on his shoulders. He reached over and put a hand on T.K.’s knee. “You know, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on if you don’t want to. But if you do, I’m here. Or if you don’t want to talk I can drive you home. No questions asked.”

He could see T.K.’s jaw working, like he was trying to hold back tears. He shook his head silently, misery all over his face and Carlos couldn’t take it any longer. He slid closer so their thighs touched and put his free hand on T.K.’s shoulder. “T.K. what is it?”

The other man sucked in a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. “My dad has cancer.”

Of all the things he’d considered, this had never crossed his mind. It felt like a punch in the gut. And if it felt that way to him, he could only imagine how it felt to T.K. 

“It’s lung cancer,” T.K. continued. “From the towers. And he didn’t tell me. He just moved us across the country like he could run away from it. I thought he made us come here because of me but really, it was because of him. And me. Both of us I guess, I don’t even know anymore.”

T.K. looked so wrung out and exhausted and Carlos’ heart ached, wishing for all the world that he could somehow take his pain away.

“He’s been getting chemo and dealing with this for months now, all on his own because he couldn’t tell me or didn’t want to tell me or didn’t trust me enough to tell me and I feel really REALLY shitty about it,” T.K. said. “Like the worst son in the world for not noticing and not being…okay enough for him to talk to me about it. Because you know that people with a support system have a better chance of beating cancer than people that don’t. And I haven’t been providing that for him. I’ve just been dealing with my own shit again.” 

His intake of breath was shaky, words continuing to pour out of him. “And I told him that I wasn’t scared, that I knew he was going to be all right, but I think that was a lie. Because right now I’m terrified. I’m terrified that I’m going to lose him. And I promised myself I would never lie to him again after what happened in New York but how could I say anything else? He needs me to be strong but,” T.K. finally looked up and met Carlos’ eyes, “I’m not very good at being strong. As evidenced by the addiction and relapses.” 

He shook his head again and ran an agitated hand over his face. “And I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and I kind of can’t stop thinking about it and it all just kind of…spilled out.”

Carlos squeezed his knee. “Well, they do call me “The Confessor” at the precinct. Bad guys take one look at me and give up all their secrets.”

T.K. raised his eyebrows. “They do?”

“No, T.K. it’s a joke.” He winced slightly. “Maybe not the right time for a joke. Sorry.”

T.K. snorted. “No it’s…thanks. I needed that.” He exhaled slowly. “I think I needed all of that. I don’t uh, I don’t have many people I can talk to about stuff like this. So thanks for letting me unload on you. Again.”

“You can talk to me anytime,” Carlos said. “I mean it. And if you need help with your dad, anything at all, I’m glad to do that too. I can drive to appointments, pick things up, make phone calls, or just be a shoulder to cry on.”

T.K. gave him a soft, smile, the first genuine one of the night, and cupped his cheek. “You are so sweet. You know that?”

“I think you’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Carlos told him. “I’m not just saying it; I’m serious T.K. Anything you need, anything at all.”

He couldn’t fix this, couldn’t tell T.K. that it would all be all right in the end, couldn’t give him the assurances he longed for, but he could offer his presence and support.

“I know,” T.K. said, and he seemed to genuinely believe it. “Thank you.”

Carlos leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, lingering for just a moment before pressing their foreheads together. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

T.K. nodded against him and didn’t pull back. “Do you mind if we don’t…I just don’t think I…”

“How about we watch a movie?” Carlos suggested. “I’ll make some popcorn, we can relax. Decompress a little bit.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” T.K. asked.

Carlos smiled. “Believe it or not I like being with you even when we’re not having sex. And I am very capable of going without for a night or two.”

“But not three?” T.K. asked as Carlos got up and moved to the kitchen.

Carlos gave a fake wince. “That would be pushing it. I might have to find another hot shot firefighter from New York to hook up with.”

“You get a lot of those in Austin?”

“Oh they’re a dime a dozen around here,” Carlos said with a teasing grin as he started the microwave. “Walk down the street and you’re bound to run into at least a few. Although, I don’t think all of them have such a passion for hose nozzles.”

Now T.K. winced for real. “Sorry. I ramble when I’m anxious.”

“I noticed. It’s okay. And next time I’m at a scene and someone asks me for a hose nozzle, I will definitely be able to help. In fact, I think I’ll add that to my resumé. Hose Nozzle Expert.”

“Oh god,” T.K. rolled his eyes. “I’m a terrible date.”

Carlos returned with the popcorn. “Well I’ll guess we’ll just have to go on another one. Give you a chance to make it up to me.”

“Friday?” T.K. asked.

“I have a shift starting mid-morning.”

“Breakfast then?”

Carlos handed him the popcorn bowl. “Breakfast it is. Now,” he settled back into the couch and pulled T.K. toward him until they were cuddled together. “Relax. I’ve got you.”

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Motherly Instincts, Human Emotions, or Just a Quirk?

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x Reader

Summary: A feeling is haunting you and it seems to just get even more complicated as the number one hero Endeavor is now out of his hospitalization and the world is at an unease. Is it just your motherly instincts that you feel towards your beloved class 1-A? Is it just a normal occurrence of emotion within any person? Or is it your quirk now picking up something new that you can’t quite see yet?

What I listened to while writing: Detroit:Become Human soundtrack, especially Kara’s Theme.

We are finally here! The fifth season of our beloved My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia has finally arrived! And with that also comes some writings! I’ve been swamped with my new busy schedule that comes along with being in cosmetology school, don't ever under estimate those students because we sure go through a lot each day! Please enjoy this short, on the whim writing for a humble celebration.

Masterlist / request info in master list

A chill had risen up your arms as your typed away at your computer, the hurried and petrified voice of the news caster raging out even if your tv was brought down to a hushed volume. 

“Number one hero Endeavor is is currently defeating a villain. Much damage has been caused to the area. No fatalities as of right now....” Though whatever they had left to speak out to all of Japan or even the whole world did not matter as your chair had clattered upon the ground as you reached for your house coat. the bright light of the hall blinding your eyes as wisps of hair that had fallen from your hair tie floated amongst the wind you created with your nervous steps down the stairs. Shoto had fallen to the ground and your colleague was already there hovering over the teen, the rest of the class either crowding their fellow classmate or staring in shock to the news blaring from the tv.

That day the world changed and not even the world’s most naïve person could ever deny such a thing.

“Here is your jacket, Shoto...” You spoke out softly as you stood in front of the boy, hands reaching to straighten out the collar, the young man only silently standing before you expressionless as usual. Though you could have sworn you felt a tremor. Whether it was you or him, that could be debatable. ���Just remember the time we set, ok? If you feel uncomfortable don’t be afraid to just excuse yourself so Mr.Aizawa and I can bring you straight back to the dorms, they will understand that if you have too.” assuring you hoped your words would sound to the boy, but that forever blank expression only looked back to you. 

“Ok...” he softly spoke out, you nodding your head as you stepped out from his path.

“Ok” felt like the only appropriate response as you watched him step up to the house, disappearing behind the very daunting front door. 

You didn’t want to come off as one of those crazy conspiracist types who always had a foul theory about a hero, villain, and their families, but with your quirk helping you feel the atmosphere or vibe of people, places, or things, you couldn't help but silently be one. Shoto always carried something awful, something that made your heart become heavy despite his neutral expressions. It always perturbed you to no end. It wasn’t like you have never felt this before either. With your previous job being interviewing and helping rehabilitate “troubled” children and mentally stricken heroes and now being the counselor of UA, it was something that always came. What bothered you though was that it was coming from the son of the nation’s number one hero, a family that would seem normal to all of Japan and the entire world because, well, it was a family of a hero. A had on your shoulder made you snap out of your racing thoughts, now looking over your shoulder and to Aizawa.

“Are you ok?” He questioned, almost a bit awkwardly. You didn’t blame him, your reaction to the atmosphere around was probably strange and maybe even frightening. “I know your quirk can...”

“I’m just worried...” You spoke out with a sigh as rested a hand over his before moving away from his touch to lean against the hood of the car, hands now sitting in your lap as you twiddled your thumbs. “And I’ve been picking up something weird, but who knows, maybe its just that this house probably too damn old and spooky” you tried to joke with a meek laugh, though he only stared with a knowingly look, yet did not press any further. You had to be thankful for that, he sure knew when to back off sometimes, maybe not when it came to his own homeroom students, but for you? He did and you didn’t really care to know his reason for why like whether or not he thought you were too weak to handle it or some other seemingly offensive reason. “Shit!” You exclaimed as a fowl hiss came from the side walk in front of you. There a scared cat arched and puffed it’s body out, though Aizawa paid no mind with a lazy look as he calmly approached the cat, slowly reaching out a hand to let the feral beast sniff, quickly gaining his trust. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as the man scooped up the cat in his arms, now leaning against the car next to you where his hands loved up upon the cat’s dirty fur, his black hair falling to hide the sides of his face. Sometimes you would sit there and imagine what he would look like with that mane of his trimmed and tidied during the sleepless nights you shared playing card games, doing paperwork together, or doing a quick patrol around the dorm to check upon the beloved students of class 1-A. 

“Huh, you sure your quirk isn’t taming wild cats?” You teased as you reached a hand to give the old cat a scratch under his chin. The little chuckle that rumbled through rumbled through you before he began to speak.

“I wish, creating a cat sanctuary of street cats seems like the life best suited for me..” He spoke out lowly with the purrs of the cat. You knew he was joking however which brought a small lift to the corners of your lips. 

It didn’t take him much thought to know that something was still bothering you as the cat jumped from him arms to land back to the ground with what seemed to be a small meow of thanks as it ran off into the night only leaving behind the pesky cat hairs on his all black costume, but he didn’t mind at all. 

“Look at you, covered in cat hair...” Your voice came out in a whisper which you weren't aiming to do as you reached a hand to try to dust away the short hairs in vain, though his rough hands wrapped around yours in order to stop you, a knowing look upon his face. That look made you sigh as you retracted your hands from his.

That damn man. He knew when to not press about things like he did to others, but when it got to a certain point in his eyes, he always intervened. You were foolish enough to think you would be able to suppress and hide it enough in order to trick those fatigued eyes of his. Not this time, the feelings that plagued your heart and continued to poke at you were too strong and too bothersome. 

“Shoto always carried things such as sadness, anger, determination, trauma, just a lot more than I could swallow sometimes.” You began to explain, now looking up to the house watching the shadows dance across one of the windows lit up by the soft light within. “And this whole area is filled with so many bad things...but right now it kind of confuses me” You said as your eyebrows scrunched at the new shift. “Change is happening, which is normal to see in a person once they go through the proper treatment or therapy, but judging by how bad it was before, it is going to take a lot...” You said with a sigh, lowering your gaze from the house, trying your best to shut off the swarm of emotions before you and to end your reading, now looking to Aizawa. “It just saddens me, Shoto seems so aloof, but that boy has went through so much, I guess I’m just worried from him, scared for him..” You explained.

“Doesn’t make since why he would come back?” He asked softly, you only staring back up to him to roll that thought within your head before nodding your head. Aizawa only nodded his head back, his arm now reaching to wrap an arm around your dropping shoulders, you now leaning your head against his shoulder. The embrace was comforting and you appreciated his understanding, but you still had such an anxious feeling in your gut. 

“I know this world preaches forgiveness and for us to fix the wrongs we commit in our life, but even for me who helps those people forgive and seek forgiveness, its still hard to do it myself sometimes. It also goes to show that even a family like this can hold all these...foul things” You explained further as you looked p to the moths and bugs that swarmed the streetlight up above and soon past their mindless flight and to the dull stars above. The tears pulled at the brim of your eyes, your chin beginning to strain with the sensation that came with crying. “These kids are like my babies...” you soon shakily spoke out, fighting back the horrendous expression you knew would come too with your tears as you looked to Aizawa “And right now I can’t fight off this feeling in my gut ever since the Endeavor incident..” Your trembled whisper almost seemed fearful. 

A door slamming made Aizawa’s head snap to the source of the sound where the both of you sat in the silence, bodies tense as you waited. Finally with a deep sigh his body relaxed as he looked back to you, a hand reaching to brush away those tears that could move him to tears if he was off guard, though sometimes that wouldn’t even work and that would definitely not go past you. 

Your hands reach to cup the lower, stubbled half of his face upon seeing that familiar wetness gently pool in his eyes, but it was not enough to fall upon his cheeks and betray his wishes of not wanting to cry. You guessed you were not alone with these feelings

“I know...” He spoke out quietly with a sad smile. “We just have to prepare them as best as we can. Shoto, Izuku, Eri, Shinsou, all the others” Aizawa continued on as he was no fully turned to you, hands holding your upper arms, one of them moving away to reach for a piece of hair that was caught onto your sweater to pluck it off and let it float gently down into the darkness of the night. 

“But they are just kids...” 

“I know, but they chose this path, besides, they have already accomplished and achieved so much. Who knows, maybe whatever is coming will be another thing these students will once again defeat and make us adults look stupid again” Aizawa was trying to joke, trying to lift that melancholy looked that wrinkled your face, but it was no use. With a sigh he stood up straight, those warm hands of his sliding away as he opened the passenger door for you, those eyes seeming to look even more exhausted if that were even possible. “Come on, lets get the car started, its almost time to bring Shoto home.”

Motherly instincts, human emotions, a quirks power....was it simply not a good mix or was it simply something big was coming? How those thoughts came in typhoons within your mind as you sat in silence in there car. 

How you will never be able to figure that one out....

[astrablossom]

The Purple Otaku Stalker

Fandom: Shall We Date? Obey Me!

The otaku with purple hair keeps following you around after you befriend him. You decide to confront him in a alleyway.

Originally Posted on Ao3

Warnings: mild dubcon, foot job, orgasm denial, stalking, exhibitionism, degrading kink

It has a good ending don’t worry.

High school AU

There is always that one weird nerdy kid that sits in the back of the classroom with his head glued in some manga. On lunch breaks he'll watch porn on his phone with the brightness turned down low, secretly hoping someone will catch him. And sometimes in class he'll find a way to read hentai and doujinshi in class which is probably why he's always sporting a boner. One time he fingered himself in the bathroom fantasizing that someone was watching him, belittling him with their eyes as he came all over the bathroom tiles.

Often times people whisper about him, how he's so weird and disgusting and he's so used to it. He'll get odd looks and glare in group projects. One day you take pity on him and when you walk up to talk to him, you'll notice how petrified he is.

"P-People will be grossed out if you talk to me. Don't you care about your reputation?" He manages to blurt out one day when you drop your lunch box beside him. At the time you two were working on a project. When you turn look down to respond you immediately notice how he squeezes his legs together under the desk hoping his erection wasn't too obvious. Levi looks under his purple bang to see you shaking your head and his eyes go straight from your face, to your chest, and then your crotch. Will you tell on him to the teacher? Are you disgusted at his hunched over sweaty form? The thought of it alone brought a flush to his face.

Your voice knocks him out of his fantasy. "You truly are perverted but I don't care. Besides I want to talk to someone else." You grab a chair and sit beside him and that's how he starts to crush on you.

The two of you don't talk often and it usually you who initiate the conversation but he's a good listener. You're kind enough to listen to him rant about anime every now and then, replying if your in the fandom. It was really nice and he found his himself slowly opening up to you and not just because you had a nice face. After a while you notice how his eyes follow wherever you go. Even when the otaku is nowhere to be seen you always feel like someone is watching you. And whenever you two talk his cheeks are always a cute strawberry red. If you're close to him you can hear how deep he is breathing.

When his crush passes by (you) he starts to sweat more than usual and ducks away from your sight, his heart pounding in his chest and his erection so so obvious. He peeks over to see you bending down to pick up something and immediately made a beeline to the bathroom. Ever since that day he masturbated more often and in more public places just to see your face. He knew he was disgusting and that it was wrong but he couldn't help him. He adored you. During class when you stood to read he rubbed one out to your voice. Whenever he was reading a hentai about someone being fucked he thought of you. He wanted to be dominated by you, he wanted to be the one who made you moan, to be the person to be with you.

But he also wanted to hold a decent conversation.

As the days go by the stalking increases and you start to notice. In the corner of your eye you'll occasionally catch a glimpse of purple shifting. It was annoying you to the point you decided to do something about it. You knew enough about Levi and what he liked after searching through his search history, making fun of him about not deleting it.

So you decided to confront him about the stalking on a Friday. The two of you were heading to your house and look up at the taller boy to admire his features.

Leviathan was taller that you and the black school uniform he wore only brought more attention to lanky form. His bangs curved gently over his eyebrows, obscuring his eyes a bit from view. Your eyes trail down to his thin pretty pink lips and for a moment you wanted to kiss them.

Another time, you think to yourself before suddenly stopping and grabbing Levi. He immediately blushes at the sudden hand holding and goes to ask you where you're going when you walk off path. You don't answer him until a a gap in between two nearby buildings appear. The streets were busy but no one paid no mind to two high schoolers entering a alley.

The alley way was mostly vacant save for the litter tumbling about. Ignoring Levi calling out your name, you drag him till his back is pushed against the brick wall. It was still daytime so if someone were to look down here they could probably see you two.

"Y-you-" he looks down stunned at the peeved expression on your face. Your arms were crossed and the disgusted look he was so used from others looked amazingly well on your face.

"I should've listen to my friends." You press a pointed finger to his chest and speak in a very low tone. "You've been stalking haven't you?" You're greeted with silence and don't hesitate to raise a hand against Levi's face. The sound of your hand colliding with his cheek was sharp, echoing along with his gasp in the alleyway. His head snapped to the left from the impact and already a pink handprint was swelling on his cheek. The otaku's eyes start to bubble up but your quick to step on his shoe. Hard. You half expected him to cry out in pain but instead you were greeted with a low moan.

"I-Im so sorry" he begins and you can't help but feel slightly amused at his cowering form. You truly had control over him and at that realization warmth spreads through your body. "I don't deserve your friendship at all. I'm just a shitty, shut in, perverted otaku..."

It was quiet for a moment and you lick your lips out of arousal. "I see you're finally learning your place Levi." His head snaps at the sound of him name and you grin before demanding him to sit on the gravelly cement. Like a dog.

Unsurprised that he does as he's told you take note of the situation. It was late in the evening and technically you were still on school grounds. Not to mention this was illegal. The sound of traffic and people passing by made it very clear you could be caught at anytime but you figured you both were far enough in the alley to not be seen. Levi watches you look behind your back before turning your attention to him. He suck your teeth.

"Spread your legs pervert." He frowns not out of disapproval but out of embarrassment as he slowly spreads his legs, again his erection struggling against his uniform. You cross your arms and take on a more neutral expression before demanding him to show him your cock. At that he starts to fluster.

"Wait! I've never done-" he stops short when you stomp your foot down right on his crotch. The seering pain was enough to make the corner of his eyes prick with tears. He toss his head back against the brick wall, holding back a small moan. It took everything in him to not flat out cum on himself.

"Shut that filthy mouth of yours up." He lets out a undignified squeal at the authoritative tone you possessed. "Did I say you can speak? You're opinion does not matter." You twist your left foot over his erection, pushing a groan out the male. There was something exhilarating about being in command over someone so willing. It brought a smile to your face.

Levi watched the smile creep on your face and slowly moves his hand towards your shoe. He stares with keening eyes, begging silently for you to lift the pressure off of him. You do so and he's quick to undo his zipper, pulling his pants and Ruri-chan boxers down so his cock can flop out into view. Just knowing that you were staring at his cock with such concentration made it throb even more.

His dick wasn't nothing extraordinary nor was it lacking. It was pale save for the tip and you couldn't see any veins from where you were standing. It even had a cute little curve to it. You tip your head further to notice that the carpet indeed match the drapes. You snort loudly so he can hear and you back up a bit from him.

Levi watches silently as you press your left foot on your right shoe, lifting a cotton clad foot out of it. His eyes widen and he looks up at you as you step closer. Only then was he highly aware that you two were in public. And for a more he hesitated even though this was a dream come true.

"Do you want this Leviathan?" He blinks. "What?" He flinches for speaking without permission but you shake your head again.

You spoke in a low but very serious tone as you trail your foot scarily close to his begging erection. "If you don't want this then tell me right now and I'll stop." You lean over his head waiting for a answer. Instead Levi gives you a very nervous smile. Heat rises to your cheek at how bashful he looked with those purple bangs covering part of his face.

"I wouldn't have done this with anyone else." That was all you needed to hear. Truth be told you would speak to Levi about the stalking later, perhaps punish him more strictly but right now your number one priority was making said boy wriggle and tremble under your jurisdiction. The laughter of chiildren passing by made a shiver run down your spine as you press a foot against his cock, wiggling your clothed toes against it before moving it up and down experimentally.

Levi was touched by your permission to consent and was more excited when you began your ministrations, huffing softly when your warm foot touched his cock. The cotton was so warm from your blessed skin, the rough exterior from the fabric made his buck his hips.

"A-ah..." he softly calls out your name when you press your big toe against the tip, curling it and pushing down till his cock bended against his school jacket. He pays close attention to you. Your face was still stoic but he notes how closely knit your brows were and how your lips were slightly turned up at the corner. He groans lowly into the vacant alley when you press your heel against his balls. You've just started but he wasn't sure how long he could hold on. This was nothing compared to the videos he watched.

Occasionally he would see you turning your head back to see if anyone was coming. No one looked towards you two and once more you apply more pressure to his cock, basking in how his body arched into your hold. Another wanton moan came from his cute lips and you hiss at him.

"Do you want to get caught? Do you get off at the fact that you're sitting on cold hard cement while I stand over you rubbing my foot against your disgusting cock? How amusing." His cheeks become a deeper shade of red as soft delicate moans of your name rolls off his lips like the sweetest thing ever. You purr his name out and he must've died and gone to heaven. The familiar fuzzy feeling of an approaching orgasm was coming near and his hips were quivering faster too.

"Do you like it when I step on you?"

He nods.

"Do you want to cum all over my sock?" Another delayed nod. And you give him the most sweetest smile you could muster before pulling your foot away at the very moment he needed to cum. He hiccups in mild agitation at his denial orgasm and looks up at you with glassy eyes.

"Too bad." You bend to reach for your shoe, slipping it back on listening to him whimper for your attention.

You spoke dismissively to him although you expression betrayed your strict persona. "We'll finish this at my place. Unless you have something better to do." Not waiting for a reply you turn around and walk away back into the eye of the public slowly catching your breathe.

The facade immediately drops and in your mind your screaming at the fact that you actually went ahead and did that. You were turned on beyond belief. The feeling of dominating Levi was fresh to you and you can't help but curl your foot in your shoe. His cock felt amazing under you.

How would it feel inside your mouth? Or maybe somewhere lower? The sound of Levi moaning you name is drilled forever in your ears. The sight of him babbling and nearly crying over you make the hairs on your arms stand. You wanted more. So much more.

Did this make you a bully? Were you twisted for getting so aroused by him crying underneath you? You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't hear someone calling your name until you feel a timid tug on your jacket. You look up to Levi staring down at more shyly than usual. His cheeks were still pink and his bookbag was suspiciously covering his torso.

"I'm sorry for stalking you..." he murmurs softly. "B-But I really enjoyed your company. I'm not- " he takes a small breathe and continues. “I'm not really good at words so I completely understand if you never want to talk to a incompetent-" you stretch a hand to squish his cheeks. His lips squish together and he looks down at you with confusion. Smiling you let go off his face before taking his hand. He starts to stutter and you lean in closer, pressing yourself against his chest.

"After your spanking we can talk more. How's that sound?"

[fc5holidayexchange]

Jealousy Looks Good on You

FAR CRY 5 HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2019 FIC

‘ Jealousy Looks Good on You’

Relationship: Deputy Alice MacNeil/Staci Pratt

@pabstbeerpussy

I’ve been vibrating with anticipation since this landed in my inbox last month, pal.

Tags: Deputy x Staci Pratt, SMUT (specifically, jealousy, teasing, semi-public sex, wall sex, talkative sex, creampie)’

—

There’s a girl flirting with Staci at the bar. It’s raising Alice’s hackles, making her scowl into her empty drink even though she’s trying to hide it, even though she’s trying to make sure her face stays fucking neutral like it should be. She just can’t help herself from being annoyed, from glancing over their way to see if he’s let her down yet or if he’s flirting back.

It’s hard to tell from over here, but it looks like he’s flirting back. Asshole. What a fucking douchebag.

She tightens her grip on the bottle and turns away, purposefully squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin so he won’t be able to tell she’s annoyed when he comes back. She won’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to whatever game he’s playing right now.

Well. Not visibly reacting at least. It’s too late to do anything about the irritation coiling in her chest. She’s just going to have to ignore it.

She pretends to be watching the dancing couples near the jukebox when he finally leaves that woman behind and makes his way over to her, pretends not to notice him until he wraps his arm around her shoulders and waggles her replacement beer in her face. She shrugs off his touch, takes the beer with a cool “thanks,” and doesn’t look at him.

She can feel him hesitate, the brief uncertainty over her sudden attitude shift making him pause as he reassesses, recalculates. He puts his drink down on the hightop and puts his hand on her bare knee instead, fingers cold and a little wet from the condensation on the glass. His other arm stays around the back of her chair, elbow cracking when he bends it to lean in close to speak to her where he won’t be overheard.

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” His breath stirs her hair by her ear, and she fights off a shiver.

“Nope,” she says, popping the P in a way that makes him huff out a laugh. She takes a swig of her drink and still doesn’t look at him. 

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t do anything except slide his hand just a little farther up her thigh. Her muscle twitches, torn between instinctively wanting to part her legs for him and wanting to pull away out of pure irritation, and his fingers squeeze again.

“You sure?” His nose bumps into her temple, his lips against her jawline. “That mean you’ll dance with me?” He brushes his lips over her cheek, not quite a kiss, just an aimless gesture of affection that makes her cheeks heat.

She tilts her head a little, and he takes that as an invitation to press light, teasing kisses to her hairline even though really she’d meant for him to stop. “There’s not someone else you want to dance with?”

 His thumb strokes over the skin of her thigh, hand slipping up a little higher but still below the hem of the skirt she’s kind of regretting wearing. “Someone else like the blonde at the bar?”

She turns and looks even though she doesn’t want to, immediately finds the woman still standing in the same spot. They lock eyes for half a second, and the other woman looks away, down at her own drink that she probably had to pay for herself. Alice’s mouth twists in a bit of a smirk, and she tries to hide it by taking another deep swig of her beer.

Staci isn’t fooled. He stands up straight, laughing, takes his beer from where he left it and drinks it before he says anything else. She’s still staring at the ring of condensation it left behind when he leans back down and says, “I could invite her over if you’d rather. She seemed pretty willing.”

She glares at him before she realizes he’s joking, making him sputter a laugh into his drink. It makes her face flush even darker and her glare deepens, but then he’s putting his drink down and taking hers from her too, pulling her out of her seat and closer to the other dancing couples.

She lets him, going with him until he’s holding her with one arm around her waist and his other hand around hers. 

“Don’t be like that, babe. You know I only have eyes for you,” he says, beaming down at her, looking real fuckin’ pleased with himself. She wrinkles her nose at him and he spins her around in time with the music.

There’s no reason for him to be acting this smug, but the way he’s holding her against his chest makes her feel like she’s done something he appreciates even though she’s barely said anything to him since he left for refills. He tugs her a little closer as the song changes to something slower, places her hand on his shoulder and then moves his hands to rest low on her hips.

Another half turn and she can see that bitch at the bar, still watching them for some godforsaken reason, and Alice holds her gaze as she moves her hands up to the base of Staci’s neck, one of them combing through the shorter, soft hairs there.

A half-turn more and he can see what she’s watching, and she’s treated to another embarrassing laugh from him as he dips down to brush his lips again across the shell of her ear.

“Jealousy’s a good look on you,” he says, then he kisses her temple as she scowls.

“Fuck you, Stace,” she says, digging her nails into the nape of his neck and not making a single movement to pull away even when he laughs again.

He slides his hands down from her hips to her ass, cupping her through the thin material of her skirt. She pushes closer to him, up on her toes, and he catches her earlobe between his lips. She gasps and he squeezes her again, lifting her up just enough to show he can before moving his hands back to her hips.

“Gonna mark your territory?” His voice is low in her ear, gravely, undeniably turned on by whatever this is that’s happening here. “Show her I’m yours?”

She turns toward him slightly, still following his steps as he moves to the music. “That what you fuckin’ want?”

He catches her lips with his, finally, warm and dry against hers. She slides one hand deeper into his hair as she kisses him back, gripping just this side of too tight. He teases across her lips with the tip of his tongue and then pulls back, breaking the kiss before it can get too heated, and she chases his mouth for just a half-second before she comes back to herself and remembers they’re still in the middle of the Spread Eagle during happy hour.

She stops herself from kissing him again, untangles her fingers from his hair, and just rests her cheek against his as they go back to dancing. It feels like her heart is beating out of her chest, though, Staci’s words swirling around in her mind as the heat of his body seeps into hers. 

She can’t help but needle him just a little bit more as the jealousy starts to fade. “You seem pretty pleased with yourself.”

He hums a little, rubbing one soothing hand up and then back down her back. “I got the most beautiful girl in the county spitting mad over me. It’s a pretty good feeling.”

She is not blushing. “You’re an asshole, Staci Pratt.”

 “You love me, Alice MacNeil.” His wandering hand dips back down to her ass, just for a second, just long enough to squeeze and send another thrill through her.

She grunts at his words and tries not to shiver at his hands, now pretty sure he was letting that girl flirt with him on purpose. “Maybe so,” she says, and he laughs again like she thought he might, and then he stands up straight to press a kiss to her forehead.

She wrinkles her nose at him.

He winks right back.

She wants to kiss him again. Wants him to kiss her again. Wants him to make good on that stupid teasing throwaway phrase about her marking her territory like she’s a fucking dog.

She tightens her hold on his hair and pulls his face back down to hers so she can bite his lower lip, the crowd around them be damned. 

He groans, yanks her hips hard against his, waits until she releases his lip to bite hers right back. His bite is harsher, the points of his teeth digging in harder, but he follows it up with a swipe of his tongue that soothes the pain and makes her want more at the same time.

He stops her from kissing him again with both his hands on her jaw, their dancing paused so abruptly that a nearby couple bumps into them. Staci jerks with their movement, studying her face, and then he nods like he’s found the answer to a question she’s not totally sure he asked.

His lips twist into another smirk as he releases her face and grabs her hand instead, pulling her behind him off the dance floor and through the bar toward the back door. Her heartbeat picks up as she realizes what they’re doing — not heading out to the parking lot, where his truck waits, and not toward the bathrooms where they’ve snuck off once or twice before, but toward the empty lot behind the bar.

The cold air hits her flushed face, but it doesn’t clear her head any as Staci tugs her around by her hand and tucks her against the wall behind the door with one hand on her waist and the other against the wood by her head. She presses herself backward, lips parting, as he crowds into her space, pressing his hips against hers. His belt buckle bites into her hipbone as he shifts to tuck his leg between hers.

“Still mad at me, baby?”

It’s hard to see his expression in the shadows, but it looks like he’s still smirking at her. She grabs handfuls of his flannel at his waist and leans her head back to try and catch his eye. “Maybe a little.”

It seems like the right answer. Staci makes an appeasing sound and slides his hand up from her hip to just below her breast under her shirt. She arches her back, pressing into his touch, tightening her grip on him while she waits to see what he’s going to do.

His nose brushes against hers. “Think there’s anything I can do to get you to forgive me?” He leans in just a fraction more, close enough to kiss her if she just tilted her head a little, and waits with his forehead pressed against hers.

She’s sure he must be able to feel her heart pounding against her ribs, must be able to hear the dry click of her throat as she tries to swallow, must be able to read the thoughts swirling through her head, because as soon as she realizes she wants him to, he’s moving his free hand from the wall to the nape of her neck. He tangles his fingers in her hair, tugging hard enough to lit her head back and encourage a hiss from her lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, lips still barely an inch from hers.

“Yeah,” she says, and that’s all he needs to hear.

He’s on her like he’s been waiting all day, like he’s been waiting since he picked her up from her apartment and saw her bare legs in this stupid skirt. And maybe, just based on how hard he presses his lips to hers, how fast he slips his tongue into her mouth, he has.

She gives as good as she gets, sucking on his tongue and yanking his flannel from the waistband of his pants so she can get her hands under it. As soon as she sinks her nails into the skin over his ribs, he slips his hand higher to squeeze her breast through her bra, then he yanks the flimsy fabric down to pinch at her nipple when she groans into his mouth.

The breeze chills her as it hits the bare skin of her stomach, raising goosebumps as quickly as Staci’s touch. He pushes his leg harder between hers, his thigh grinding against her core. She presses down into the sensation even as she bites at his lower lip, catching his skin between her teeth and tugging until he pulls at her hair again to get her to stop.

She leans her head back, laughing, and groans when he moves his lips to her neck without hesitation. He goes right for her sensitive points, lips and tongue and teeth teasing her just shy of leaving bruises where she can’t hide them, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. She bites her lip to hold herself quiet as he tugs at her nipple again, pinches him right back when she feels him press a chuckle into the skin of her throat.

“You’re such an asshole,” she says, again, voice cracking at the end when he yanks on her hair and sinks his teeth into the skin below her collarbone. The delicious bite of pain makes her forget where she is, forget that there’s a bar full of people just behind her back, and she clenches her jaw tight and groans out loud.

Staci laughs again, pulling his hand free of her shirt and putting just enough space between them so he can get it up her skirt instead. His fingers sweep over the outside of her thigh, up to her hip and back down, until she lifts one foot and braces her heel on the wall behind her, opening herself up for his questing fingers.

He rests his forehead against hers, holding her still as he moves the seat of her panties aside and teases his trigger finger between her folds. She groans again, a little more quietly this time, and squeezes one of her hands between their bodies and paws at his front, finding his cock trapped in his jeans and squeezing until he groans back at her.

“You’re wet,” he says, voice low and rough and delicious.

She laughs. “And you’re hard.”

She gives his cock a firm stroke through the tight denim to prove her point, and he retaliates by sliding his finger inside her up to the third knuckle.

“Fuck.”

 He kisses her as he laughs. He adds another finger, pumping shallowly with two fingers while his thumb finds her clit. He sets a steady rhythm as they stand in each other’s space, breathing the same air.

His body is warm against hers as he asks, “That what you want me to do? Fuck you right here?”

Her eyes pop open and she looks around, at the dark houses behind the bar, the bit of parking lot she can see off to the side, at the closed door just beside them. If anyone walked out through it for some reason, there’d be no hiding what they were up to…

“You wanna prove I’m yours?” He punctuates his question with a sharp press of his thumb, and she throws her head back hard enough to bump it into the wall of the Spread Eagle. “You alright?”

She doesn’t answer. “Fuck me, come on.”

He grunts as she squeezes him again, then pulls his fingers free and presents them to her to clean for him. She does, staring into his eyes as she wraps her tongue around his fingers, sucking the taste of herself from his skin.

As soon as she releases his fingers, he pulls his other hand from her hair and takes just enough of a step back to get his hands on his ridiculous belt buckle to loosen it. She watches, trying vainly to catch her breath, as he frees his cock and gives it a stroke in the cool night air.

It doesn’t matter how many times she sees it, the sight of Staci standing in front of her with his deliciously large cock in his hand never fails to make her shiver. She licks her lips and starts to turn around so she can brace her hands on the wall, but he shakes his head at her, a sharp motion that knocks a lock of his hair free so that it falls into his eyes. She smiles and brushes it back behind his ear as he moves back in to kiss her, both of his hands going to her thighs to lift her up and pin her between his body and the wall.

“Mmm, I love this skirt on you,” he says, nuzzling against the side of her face as she pulls the fabric out of the way and reaches between them with eager fingers to pull her panties to the side and guide the tip of his cock against her entrance. “You should wear it — fuck — more often.”

They groan together as he slides slowly inside of her, her weight in his arms making the movement smooth and inexorable, She closes her eyes and bites her lip as he hilts himself, clutching at his shoulders as she adjusts to the feeling of him stretching her, filling her just right. 

It’s fucking exquisite.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she says, moving to lock her arms around his shoulders instead of just holding on, like he’s ever just shut up and done what anyone’s told him in his whole life.

He proves her right by simply leaning more of his weight against her, pushing her harder into the wall and shoving his cock impossibly deeper. His lips brush against her as he whispers, “Yes ma’am,” into her ear, then he captures her lips in another deep kiss before he finally begins to truly fuck her.

He doesn’t hold back, using his arms to hold her up as he pulls out just far enough to thrust back in. He does it again, harder this time, and then sets a steady pace that has her toes curling in her shoes and her teeth digging into her lower lip to keep herself from attracting the attention of anyone inside the bar behind her.

Still, the thrill of it, of being so close to so many people who don’t know what they’re doing, makes shivers run down her spine that have less to do with how well Staci’s fucking her and more to do with the secret thrill she’s always felt at the idea of being caught like this. 

Staci keeps his lips on her the best he can, pressing feather-light kisses against her lips and neck like he can’t help himself. He leaves his groans on her skin like they belong there, to her, and she tangles one hand in his hair and yanks because… yeah, they do.

They’re hers.

Staci tips his head back as she gets a firm grasp on his hair, starts to babble as he fucks into her harder, breath hot against her cheek. “You feel so good Alice, fuck, you’re so good to me, baby.” He moans and stops thrusting suddenly, grinding deep inside her instead. “Can you touch yourself for me? I wanna feel you come.”

He must be getting close, as desperate as he sounds, and she nods fast. A bead of sweat drips down her temple onto her cheek, and Staci kisses it away as he starts to funk her again. His thrusts are harder now, shallower, each one ending with a sharp grind of his hips against hers that make it barely necessary for her to touch herself at all, but she does it anyway, reaching between their bodies with one hand while the other stays firmly locked around Staci’s neck.

The last thing she needs right now is for him to accidentally drop her.

Her fingers unerringly find her clit, two of them setting a fast pace designed more to get her off than to match anything Staci’s doing. She clenches around him immediately and he groans, fucking her faster, starting to babble more because he just can’t help it.

“You’re so fucking good, Alice, you’re so pretty, I love you like this…” He trails off with a groan and she moans right along with him as she rapidly approaches her end. She can feel herself clenching around him, faster and faster, each word dripping from his lips pushing her even higher. “I love you, just you. You’re my girl, nobody else—“

He buries his face in her neck and whines as the music from the Spread Eagle suddenly gets louder, voices in the parking lot off to the side of the building warning them that they could be interrupted.

It’s just the spike of adrenaline Alice needs, and she comes just like that, with Staci buried inside her and pressed against her, her fingers working her clit through it all, sparks of pleasure whiting out her vision and forcing her to bury her cry in his hair.

It’s so fucking good she can’t do anything but hold on until it’s done and she’s just left with the aftershocks, with the cold wind of Fall’s End on her face and the heat of Staci’s body pressed against the rest of her.

The voices in the parking lot are gone, replaced with the rumble of engines, and she pets at Staci’s hair to get his attention, as though his attention could be on anything else.

“It’s okay,” she says, so quiet she’s not sure he can hear her even with how close they are. “They’re leaving. Gonna come for me?”

Staci nods against her, helpless, the sudden slow drag of his cock against her inner walls almost too much for her. She moans aloud, surprised at the overstimulation, and he fucks back into her hard at the sound. The wood wall behind her scrapes against her back as she’s pressed back against it and then slides back down. She wraps both arms around Staci’s neck again, holding on tight as he chases his end without any additional regard for hers.

“Goddamn, you’re good at this, babe,” she says, a little laugh bubbling up at the back of her throat. “Keep going. Don’t stop. You feel, hng, fucking amazing.”

He twists his head at her words and captures her lips, silencing her with his tongue as his thrusts hard into her twice, fast, then stills as he spills into her with a groan. Alice shivers as he fills her, clenching around him on purpose to drag another shattered moan from him.

His grip on her slips a little, and she unlocks her ankles from behind his back to support her own weight on shaky legs. He lets her go, grunting when his cock slips free of her, pauses only long enough to tuck himself away before he’s gathering her up in his arms for a tight hug.

“You’re gonna get us caught one of these days,” Staci says, voice still rough but his laughter coming back.

She holds him just as tight, ignoring her trembling muscles and the feeling of his come starting to drip onto her thighs. “This was your idea, dumbass.”

He chuckles and stands up straight before leaning in for a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he says, then kisses her once more.

She grabs hold of the front of his flannel, holding him against her. Their noses bump together. “You fuckin’ love it.”

He kisses her once more, then steps away to tuck his shirt in and redo his belt buckle. “Yeah, well. Maybe I do.”

He looks up at her from under his lashes, and she crosses her arms over her chest, smiling. He’s too fucking pretty for his own good, and he knows it, but at least she knows it too.

“Just take me home, Stace.”

He perks up a little, cocky grin stretching across his face once more. “Yes, ma’am.”

[momentofmemory]

it’s almost the end of october, which means one of the greatest, most terrifying exploits known to writers is upon us: NaNoWriMo.

there are plenty of super good survival posts out there, but as this’ll be my seventh time participating (six wins, hoping for a seventh), i thought i’d drop my own set of tips into the mix. i’m going to focus mostly on the practical details of how to write; if you want tips on the writing itself either search the writing/reference tags or pester me to do another one later :P with that said, ~on with the post~

Step One: Figure Out Your Goal

i know, i know, obviously it’s to write 50k, but what does that mean to you? are you expecting

polished prose, ready to send off to a publisher?

being able to write every day? 

just throwing up a bunch of ideas?

a mix of everything?

all of these are valid, but they’re going to require different approaches. if you want jaw-dropping writing, you’re going to need in the ballpark of five or more hours each day, if not more. if you want consistency, you’ll want to look at your normal schedule and set up a couple times you know you can write at. if just you want words, pretty much all you need to make sure is that you squeeze writing time in whenever.

your goal will probably change as the month progresses, and that’s totally fine. just check in every so often to remember a)what you’re working for and b)if it’s actually plausible. speaking of...

Step Two: Realize Your Limitations

1. Typing.

imma get super practical here: your typing speed dictates how fast you can get done. if you write 40wpm (the average), you cannot write the full 1667 in a half hour any more than you can run a mile in under three minutes. it’s honestly not a bad idea to check out your own speed, if only to help you understand yourself better. in my experience, actual writing then works like this (using my max speed, 89, as an example):

Absolute Max: 89 wpm (baseline)

Warring: 70 (75% of baseline)

In the zone: 45 (50% of baseline)

Taking my time, concentrated: 22 (25% of baseline)

anything lower than your max/4 probably means you’re spending a lot of time either researching or staring at the page, so just be aware of that.

2. Time & Focus

this kinda goes without saying, but best case scenario this is at least 1-2 hours of your life a day, or dedicating full Saturday/Sundays if you’re a weekend warrior kind of person. it’s so, so worth it if you can make time for it, but also don’t feel bad if you can’t! doing a half nano (25k) or whatever you want is also a fully acceptable plan.

that said, if you do have time, figure out your focus too. if you’ve never been the kind of person that can type for six hours straight, you will probably not magically become this person when it hits Nov. 1 (though with practice, you might be by Nov. 30). i like trying to write at least 300 before work and another 300 during lunch. that way there’s only 1k left for the evening, and having words on the page just makes me feel better. experiment with different ways of blocking out your time in the first few days and see what works best for you.

3. Don’t Forget You Live in a Body

writing is hard work, you will need to eat brain food! hunching over wrecks your back, stand up and stretch every so often! you will hate existing if you forgo sleep for days! and for the love of charles dickens, patron saint of getting paid by the word, take care of your mother-effing wrists!!

seriously on that last one. i’ve ignored it in the past and thoroughly screwed up my wrists one year; don’t be me. keep in them in a neutral position, do regular stretches, and if you need to, get wrist wraps (i recommend these).

Step Three: Actually Doing the Thing

the previous steps have had pretty broad advice, but now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty. these are mostly things i know work for me, and therefore may not for you—adjust to your own needs!

1. Write for 15 Minutes Every Day, Non-Negotiable.

i don’t even mean this is a “write 15 min and then your brain will be tricked into writing more” kinda way, but like, literally. you’re probably not going to be able to do 1667 every day—sometimes you’ll be tired and just won’t have the time. you’re very likely, however, to have 15 minutes, and you’ll want to use them. Doesn’t matter if you write 50 words or 500 in that time, at least you’ll have done something, and that’s usually enough to keep you from feeling like just giving up the next day.

2. You Might Need Physical Spaces

i’m a pretty sensory person when it comes to writing, and having a dedicated writing space is so helpful for me. going back to the idea of being an embodied person, it’s a lot easier to get your brain into a writing mode if your body’s already there. some good options include:

coffee shops (cozy! food!)

a specific room in your home (easily accessed! do what you want!)

libraries (free! quiet!)

a friend’s house (writing buddy! easy access to sounding board!)

all of these places usually have access to wifi, which is a positive.

3. You Definitely Need Digital Spaces

i pretty much always write in the same processor, once again because it helps set the mood. the main options include:

google drive (solid choice, cloud backup, mobile accessible)

dabble writer (cloud backup, links to nano, dark mode, chapter options)

write or die (only for actual writing—a scary but effective motivator; save elsewhere)

word/pages/etc. (ready to go on your computer, formatting options)

scrivener (great plotting tools, detailed interface)

i use dabble writer myself (they’re a nano sponsor, so you can get it free for this month, and as a double bonus you get it half off for the rest of the year if you win). and no, i’m not getting paid to wax poetic about them, but honestly i’ve used it to win the past two years and i adore it. 

anyway my biggest tip here is that i SUPER SUPER DON’T RECOMMEND NON-CLOUD OPTIONS. it’s very risky, but if you must, do a proper back up at least once a week. that shiz is not worth it.

4. The Timer is Your New Best Friend

because i’ve heard this argument before: no, it’s not a crutch, and no, it’s not cheating. it’s literally best practices. i’m personally a big fan of this online timer, and i let it run for 15 min every time i write. after each session i check how many words i wrote, then after maybe a quick 1-2 min break, start over.

you can totally set the timer for longer or shorter periods, depending on what works for you. i’m a fan of the 15 min sessions bc it’s just long enough to get a bit of flow going, and just short enough that i can convince my spacy brain that we can get through it without wandering. it’s also a fantastic length for warring, if you’re down for that.

5. Write That Idea Down for Lewis’s Sake

the original idea for the chronicles of narnia came to c.s. lewis when he was at a restaurant, and thank the lord, he wrote it down on a napkin. he wouldn’t write it until some time later, but if he hadn’t written it down, he might’ve forgotten it. why is this important, you ask?

BC YOU WILL FORGET THINGS.

if you have an idea, write it down in your phone or your notebook or the waterproof paper in your shower, because i don’t care how sure you are that you’ll remember it, you super won’t. i’ve forgotten many solutions to plot holes in my time and i still hold vigils over their graves. don’t be me. write it down.

Step Four: Managing that Inner Critic of Yours

all right, pay attention. i’m not going to tell you not to edit, because i would be a massive hypocrite if i did. i totally edit during nano. the important part is letting your editor help you win, not hurt you. and that means gaming your critic’s system.

1. Have a Dedicated Deletion Section

many people hear “don’t delete anything” and baulk, because for some of us it’s distracting and we want to rewrite that section until it matches our vision. so, i’m here to tell you: delete it!! rewrite entire chapters!! just save the original content as part of your word count. this is another reason i love dabble, bc at the start of nano i just make a separate part of the book, label it “delete”, and any time i’m writing and dislike a sentence/paragraph i just dump it into that folder and move on. this way you still get to keep the numbers (and why shouldn’t you? you wrote them!) while also writing words you actually like. plus, sometimes that line you deleted in ch. 1 winds up being supremely pertinent in ch.15, and now you can just copy/paste it instead of having to try to remember what exactly you’d said.

2. Acknowledge Ranting as a Time Honoured Tradition

think there’s no precedent for that 2K diatribe you wrote on the london underground? well fear not, because you can’t possibly do worse than hugo’s entire chapters worth of content on the french sewer system! or melville’s frankly terrifying obsession with the finer features of whale biology!

like, yeah, maybe you’ll decide later you don’t need it, but for now, embrace that soap box. dead white guys have been doing it for centuries and still get places in college syllabi. the least you can do is give it a place in your word count.

Step Five: Have Fun!

i know, i know, it’s cliche, but seriously. if this isn’t fun, or at least rewarding, why are you doing it anyway? so enjoy it! send passages you’re proud of to your friends! daydream about it in the car on the way to work/school! cry over a notebook about the twist you just came up with! nano’s a time of fun and exploration, and you shouldn’t miss out on it because you’re thinking too much.

also, this might be counter productive to put at the end of an essay on nano, but don’t obsess over reading essays on nano :P there comes a time when one must simply do, and nano is pretty much the definition of that.

[sustraiii]

TEAM ZRCN ARC 2 - CHAPTER 12

Back with the villain squad this chapter! Neela’s fate is revealed, and tensions bubble over in a tense meeting.

WISTERIA

The room was quiet today Wisteria noted, as she stepped inside. Although it was noon, the windows had been blackened out long ago, giving the room a state of near-permanent darkness. Or at least it would be, if not for the dim light hanging from the ceiling.

“Lunch is ready,” Wisteria announced, setting down the tray she was carrying onto the fold-out table into the room.

The figure in the corner slowly rose to her feet, tentatively coming closer, and grabbing the sandwich as if she expected Wisteria to snatch it away again.

“Hungry aren’t we?” Wisteria remarked.

The young woman swallowed her mouthful of the sandwich before answering. “You don’t exactly give me much to eat. I think I could be forgiven for feeling as though I’m being starved.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Neela,” Wisteria assured her, catching the younger woman off guard by her casual use of her name. “They deem you to valuable to risk hurting. From what I can tell they’re planning on using you to blackmail your father into giving them a considerable amount of money.”

Neela went silent for a moment, the look on her face appearing to imply she was processing this new information. A moment passed before she looked up at Wisteria, scowling at her. “Don’t act as though you’re above killing someone like me.”

“What’s that supposed to me- Oh! For the last time, I didn’t ‘kill’ your teammate!” Wisteria fired back, more defensively than she intended. She already had enough comments from Candy, who seemed to delight in taunting Wisteria by saying she didn’t know she had it in her.

“Can you say that for certain though?” Neela challenged, tilting her head to one side.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again,” Wisteria told her outright, already turning to leave. “The answer is going to be the same as the last five times you’ve asked.”

Neela didn’t respond after that, so Wisteria left her to brood in silence. She had barely closed the door behind her, before another voice cut through her thoughts.

“Wisteria,” Candy greeted, a teasing smile on her lips. “Did I scare you?”

Hardly. But Wisteria opted against responding to that, instead asking, “What is it that you want Candy?”

Candy’s smile soon disappeared when she clearly didn’t get the response she was hoping for. Good, Wisteria thought. It would take more to scare me than someone like you.

“Farron wants to speak with us,”

“Finally!” Wisteria said, emphasising a relieved sigh if only for the annoyance it provided for Candy. “It has taken him long enough. What was he doing? Trying to wrap his head around how much of a colossal fuck-up you made?”

Candy’s lips pressed into a thin line, and Wisteria likely would have gotten an earful, had she not turned and began walking away. With a shrug, Wisteria followed close behind. The building they currently found themselves was the old processing plant for the Shizukana mines, long since closed and disused after the mines blew up. It was dark, miserable building, both inside and out. Much of the old factory had been gutted long ago, but you could still see reminders of what it had once been. If all went to plan, Wisteria would finish her mission here, and then she could finally say goodbye to Farron and his group. Then it was only two years left of her contract with the Rossi’s and she could finally go home. Whatever home was anymore...

Farron waited for them in what had once been the foreman’s office, as evidenced by the now faded lettering on the door. The two women entered quietly, but Candy came to a sudden stop inside, almost causing Wisteria to crash into her. Wondering what had caused the sudden halt, Wisteria glanced around her to see Nieve and Ulysses stood behind Farron.

“What are they doing here?” Candy questioned, gesturing towards the two of them.

Farron’s expression remained as neutral as ever, but he relaxed into his chair slightly before he spoke. “Helping me get the story straight.”

“I’m not following,” Candy said, her features shifting into a confused frown. “I thought things were pretty clear.”

“To a degree,” Farron admitted. “However, I have since learnt you weren’t very forthcoming about the build-up to certain events. Including how I supposedly gave you permission to use my prototype in that village to attack those students.”

Candy seemed to turn mute at that. Wisteria couldn’t help but smirk at her getting called out. 

“Don’t smirk, Wisteria,” Farron advised with a firm tone, his green eyes shifting towards her for a moment. “You are not exempt from this diversion to my plans. I hear you gravely wounded one of these students. That he might even potentially be dead. Would you care to explain yourself?”

“I can’t say for certain whether he survived obviously, as I’ve been here for five days, but I can assure you that was never my intention,” Wisteria informed him. And she wasn’t lying either. True, she had meant to attack him, but only to knock him down and get him to yield. She had never intended to cut him like that. “The boy slipped when attempting to parry me, and unfortunately it threw off my aim as well, leading to what eventually happened.”

Farron frowned slightly and Wisteria got the impression he wasn’t overly satisfied with the answer, despite it being the truth. His gaze soon shifted back to Candy.

“Not only did you divert from the plan, but you also wasted the prototype. I warned you that it was unstable and that it was to come back to me as soon as Wisteria arrived,” Farron scolded.

“Why does she only get to walk away with a slapped wrist?” Candy asked, gesturing angrily towards Wisteria.

“Wisteria isn’t the issue,” Farron responded, cooly, “Now if I can continue -”

“No!” Candy shouted, interrupting him. “Ever since she joined, things have been going wrong! Verde’s gone underground, Saika and Merlot were arrested, half our supplies were reclaimed. And it's all her fault.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m to blame for like zero of the things you mentioned,” Wisteria pointed out with a smirk. 

“And there you go with a smirk again,” Candy yelled. She came striding up to Wisteria and grabbed her arm roughly. “I swear this is all just a little game to you.”

Wisteria only returned the comment with a sneer, before glancing down at where Candy was holding her arm. “Let go of me.”

“Or what?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Usually, when using her semblance, Wisteria liked to ease her victims into it, but to be frank, she had had enough of Candy’s snide remarks. She was sure the Rossi’s wouldn’t mind if she had a little fun in her last few days here. The effects of getting hit with the full force of Wisteria’s semblance was almost immediate: Candy’s pupils went wide, she seemed to pale in colour, and she dropped to her knees trembling. Her breaths became nervous and ragged, and her body trembled violently. Nieve was used to such scenes, but Ulysses seemed visibly shocked at what was going on, becoming even more distressed when Candy began gasping about her chest hurting.

Seeing Candy knelt in front of her, Wisteria was reminded of a story she once knew. The story of a frightened little girl who lived in constant fear. Her parents left her when she was young, and she had been taken in by people who were supposed to protect her, care for her, and love her. But they didn’t.

She was a slave to them, a helpful tool to complete the tasks they didn’t want to do. And when she refused, they would lock her away, withhold her toys, or beat the back of her shins with a cane. Sometimes she would only have to cry to get such treatment. And unfortunately for that poor little girl, she cried often.

Her life was so very sad and fearful. Until one day it wasn’t.

One day that frightened little decided she had enough. She didn’t want to be afraid anymore. She wanted them to stop hurting her and leave her alone.

They knocked her down, yelling and screaming in her ear, calling her worthless and insignificant. And then she raised her hand to defend herself. “Leave me alone!” the girl cried out. And they did. They dropped to their knees and shied away from her. They were afraid. Stop. They begged the girl. Stop. You’re hurting us! Please, stop this!

“Say my name,” Was all the girl requested. “Say my name, and I’ll let you go.”

But they hesitated, and so she squeezed harder, and they screamed louder. Four more times she asked before she finally got her answer.

Wisteria! Your name is Wisteria Bloome.

“P-please…” Candy croaked, a shaky holding a shaky hand up for mercy.

Beg as much as you like, Wisteria thought, if I really wanted to kill you, it wouldn’t matter much. I could choke the life from you without even laying a hand on your throat.

And perhaps she might have done just that, had it not been for Nieve intervening, resting a hand on her shoulder, and pulling her out of her thoughts. There was a concerned look in her eyes.

“I think you’ve made your point,” She said, casting a glance between Wisteria and Candy, who was still trembling in front of them. With a small, almost reluctant nod, Wisteria released her hold on her. Candy gasped loudly, and the first few breaths after her release were long and deep, desperate to steady her nerves.

Wisteria was also feeling the effects of her powers. It had been a long time since she had pushed herself that much and she felt light-headed and little dizzy; had it not been for Nieve stood nearby, Wisteria would have likely toppled over herself. Nieve had been with her for a long time though, she knew what could happen in situations like these - both for the victim and Wisteria.

“Thank you, old friend,” She whispered quietly, giving her an affectionate pat on the back. Wisteria straightened slightly, before addressing Farron and Candy. “We’re done here for today.” She informed them, before clicking her fingers and summoning Ulysses towards her and Nieve. As they moved to leave, Candy finally seemed to have recovered enough strength to be able to lift her head. The look she aimed at Wisteria was one of hurt and questioning. 

“I did warn you,” Wisteria said softly, the faintest of smiles gracing her lips. And with that she and her companions departed, leaving Farron and Candy to deal with what had just happened.

[thesecrookedbones-blog]

the collection.

“I think yer book’s makin’ it worse out there, y’know? Girls’re disappearin’ faster than ever. What’re ya even doin’ about it? You think ya can come here with yer fancy education and yer fictional little books. This’s real life, slim. Emily’s a good girl. Comes in all the time gettin’ supplies to keep the neighborhood strays well fed. What’re you gonna do when her body shows up like the rest of ‘em?” Buck’s tenure in Chilling is measured by the way his teeth sit ground deep toward his gum line. His brows sit low against his eyes, like anchors dragging along rebellious eyes that no longer wish to see the pain around him. I know from what city hall records I could find, that Buck has owned this general store since 1983, inheriting it from his father before him. Southern hospitality is only known to the locals, like some kind of localized slang. There was never any welcome wagon for Nora and I. Any words of encouragement actually sound like a shotgun shell being loaded into a sawed off chamber. Or the coarse friction of a knotted noose. “Just the lightbulbs today, Buck. It’ll probably cost me extra for the lecture and I’m short today.” “You think yer so funny, Mr. Typewriter? You come into town an’ just look what you’ve done.” His words hiss past stained yellow teeth, syllables clicking like a slow trotting horse. The teeth were appropriately reminiscent of a horse too - in their prime. Back before the Copenhagen dips and malt liquor sips before sunrise. Behind the halitosis breath is a venom Buck has never spoke to me; something I have been too afraid to mention. His daughter was one of the names on a growing list of the missing, and later deceased. The Collector had left her in a deer carcass bag after collecting his trophy. It was her tattoo from her right shoulder blade, memorializing her mother with bumblebees and sunflowers. Two of her most favorite things. Layla Carpenter. She got inked underage at 17 after her mother lost her battle with breast cancer. It’d been a badge of honor. I could tell it from the way she showed it off in off-shoulder dresses and floppy tank tops. She smiled wider for Polaroids when the tattoo was in the photo with her, like she’d mastered the ‘glance over the shoulder and smile’ pose just to honor her late mom. She’d been missing since 2000. She was The Collector’s first. He kept her the longest. Her body was discovered exactly one week after Nora and I moved in; lakeside nearest our property. Her body melded with the burlap carcass bag, decomposing so harshly that the medical examiner couldn’t tell flesh from bag. Often even after severe decomposition, special wavelengths of light and photographs can enhance ink in any remaining tissue. There was nothing to enhance - but everyone knew The Collector’s calling card. Her tattoo was in his possession. A token of his kill. “Just ring him up, Buck. Fer Pete’s fuckin’ sake.” I nod my appreciation to Todd. He’s one of the few neutrals I have in this town. His eyes betray him in hiding the spark of curiosity I know he feels. He has no pawns; no one on the growing list. Hell, Todd lives alone in the home his parents expired in. He has no one to look after him as he expires and no one to lace his grave with flowers once he’s gone. He has nothing to lose. “Thanks,” I say, tucking the paper bag against my shoulder, though my eyes lock with Todd - the only person who deserves my gratitude. Back at the house, I leave the bag beneath the flood light fixtures that seem to have shoddy wiring. The fixture eats through bulbs at least once a week, somehow feeding too much power while still causing the ominous orb to flicker in and out. I check my watch. School will let out soon and Nora will be home. She’s been bugging me about this light. Any kind of darkness makes her feel uneasy. I can see it in the way every layer of her spine pricks as she rounds a dark corner, helplessly reaching for a lightswitch. Plugging the six-foot wood-runged ladder down beneath the flood light fixture, my shoe centers the rung and haphazardly trusts my weight to it. It flexes but the screws snar and it holds. Gravel sounds behind my back as I twist a fresh bulb in. I’m in a pissing contest with the rest of this town, careful not to show fear or cowardice, so I don’t turn my head. Fingers yo-yo the lightbulb to a tightened position and the footsteps behind me still. I finally sneak a glance.“Yer so fucked.” I don't know him by name, but he's recognizable as one of the local meth addicts. What about him? I try to paint a mental picture of his face and I’m lost in non-distinctive identifiers. Bugged eyes, a toothless grin, sunken cheeks, and clothes that loosely swing off of his bony structure. Is he a suspect? He laughs at me, his hollow soul echoing behind him as he continued on. He's probably hallucinating, I tell myself and finish with the second bulb. The ladder gets returned to the corner filled with dust bunnies in the garage and I discard yet another bulb box. The basement of the home is bunkered beneath ground; a safe haven from tornadoes. It is the only place I trusted my work, given the lack of any natural daylight. It’s the space I get lost in, drawn in like a moth to lamplight. As I descend on creaky, wooden steps, I decide - it’s time to start Emily Marx’s chapter. The latest missing girl. Keys gallop against paper freely, a brainwave on a stroke of genius. The latest victim is fresh in my mind. Bright eyed with a bright future, given the academic records her parents’ failed to share with me. They slammed the door in my face, blaming me for opening this can of demons again. They thought my soul needed saving. They hoped to see me in church on Sunday morning. Her body hasn’t been recovered, but it’s nearing two weeks. I expected her to be the next ink to his collection after 48 hours. Death is the sole consumer in this barren land, its hunger accelerated by demons sworn off by bible verses Sunday morning and ill-will cast against family and friends after a few swigs of whiskey post-service. Blasphemy pulled straight from the bottle. Hours wash away outside without notice. The south has a way of filling your pores with heavy heat and slugging you down, zapping Father Time until seconds rock by slower or the mind’s ability to be conscious of it slips away. Each chapter takes its toll. Another life vanished into the thick air, often in stark daylight. The moment they encounter The Collector, they become another ghost; a wisp of heavy wind to remind us all that Chilling is haunted by a living being. I find myself in the position I often end up in with this book, face curtained with my hands as I count the breaths it takes to make me feel better about it all. I still haven’t found the number. Then it dawns on me. The silence overhead. Usually the kitchen floorboards would creak as Nora dances around the kitchen, preparing another meal without company while I try to figure out the great mystery of Chilling, Missouri. No creaks have sounded above to distract me from proper sentence structure or finding the perfect word that’s just hibernating at my fingertips. No, it’s been oddly silent. I feel uneasy all at once, but disallow panic as I jog up the straining basement stairs. The kitchen is dark, as is the living room, and entryway hall. Upstairs sounds just as quiet, but I run up nonetheless. Nora perfects stability in my schedule, trying to make my life look somewhat normal. She never falters - but I’m the inconsistent one. Maybe I didn’t listen or didn’t remember. She could have parent-teacher conferences. Maybe some kind of after-school tutoring session. Maybe some other after-school activity. I pretend I don’t hear the stress battering through ragged breaths. Where would she be, where could she be? Tires squeal into the school parking lot. It’s empty. Her car is nowhere to be seen, but I still run toward the front doors, truck barely stuck in park. It’s dark inside. Not a soul to be seen. There I stand, in a pained shred of reality. I didn’t even notice she didn’t come home. I check all of the possible spots, and Chilling has a limited selection. The diner, the gas station, the library, the post office, the general store. No sign of her car. I stop outside of the old run-down drive-in that has only been used as vandal grounds for the last decade and find my hands shaky as I dial the sheriff’s department. “My wife - fiancee - is missing.” It’s better not to go to the office in person, I decide. They’ll waste precious minutes vetting me, seeing only an unfriendly face they already suspect to be all kinds of evil. “She - school gets out at 2:30 and she’s usually home by 4 at the latest, depending on what kind of students need help after-school. ...Eleanor Coulson. Yeah. Middle is Winona. She’s - her birthday is June 29, 1986. Look, can you just - I am being calm.” My lip quivers and heat streaks down my cheeks. The speedometer ticks to 65, the big truck’s steering wheel quaking within my palms. "She’s like...5’6” or 5’7” and can’t weigh much more than 100 pounds. She’s small, but she’s mighty.” The sorrow touches the back of my throat and I cough to cover the emotional choke. “No, no scars or tattoos.” It's an identification question, but it feels pointed and my answer washes gooseflesh down my neck. The female voice on the other end of my call drifts into a cavernous hole as my right foot shifts from gas pedal to brake, tires crying against warm pavement. I can hear my heart rattle my skull, vision blurred with thoughts lashing against positivity. The previous girls with their mangled bodies, tattoos sliced from their skin, torture evident in their demise - it all bleeds forward until the female’s voice rises, “hello?” “I - her, her car. I just found it on Highway 26 near milepost 17.” A long pause. “He’s got her.” 6 hours later, I return home after police interrogation. I’m the prime suspect in the tragic story I’ve supposedly created. I sit there in the driver’s seat, hands folded beneath my nose and listen to the waves of fear wash over my knuckles. Within eye line, the flood light surges and flickers, faltering between a vivacious glow and the absorption of death. I watch intently, hoping the light will stay lit. Lightness in the dark - a symbol of hope. But the light hisses and with a dull gurgle, it flickers to black. A tear rims my lower lid. He’s got her. Her life will burn out just like that bulb. Hot air fills the truck, my throat rattling with rage as a low growl precedes the words I will die by if I must: “The collection ends now, you motherfucker.”

[zutaralover94]

That’s exactly what I meant by songfic lol. I don’t know if you like musicals, but I saw The Greatest Showman a few weeks ago and the song Rewrite The Stars really stuck in my head. Then I started to think about the song in Zutara terms. So if you could do an au to that song, then I’ll be forever in your debt lol.

Oh my gosh! I have been wanting to see this so bad! Luck for you my roommate has had that soundtrack on constant repeat for like the past month! And I seriously fell in love with this song!

Anyway! I hope you enjoy what I have done… I’m kind of nervous. Mostly because this will be multichaptered! I will later post this to my ao3 and fanfic account! it’s a motorcycle gang au and a figure skating au! You’ll see! 

Also huge disclaimer: I know close to nothing about ice skating! I have been researching and done a few studying to make this seem legit but hey its fiction. Still please let me know if there is anything that’s completely wrong! Seriously anyone!

So here you go anon! I hope you enjoy!

“Cops are here everyone out!” someone yelled.

Sure enough, Katara turned around where she was sitting on a picnic table. Red and blue started flashing painting the open field and a few trees.

“Fuck!” Sokka yelled and grabbed Suki’s hand. “Go Kat!”

Katara had ridden on the back of Hahn’s bike. Her eyes made a quick scan of where the bikes were parked. Hahn’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck. She took off after Zuko and Suki in hopes someone will have a spare seat.

Bikes and cars were being filled quickly and started taking off in the opposite direction of the police cars. Katara was getting antsy as she watched a few more leave. Sokka and Suki leaving quickly too. Suki looked over her shoulder screaming at her to just jump a bike.

“Get on!” One of the last motorcyclists yelled over the motor. His helmet block his face as he revved the engine. Katara bit her lip and looked to where the police officers were only about a block and half away.

Katara slung her leg over the bike and wrapped her arms around the torso in front of her. The motorcycle popped up slightly before taking off at full speed. Katara pressed her face into the leather cut.

The guy cut through a thin opening in the trees. Katara grabbed a little tighter to the thin waist. The path was bumpy and trees scratched at her arms.

Katara turned slightly when they were through the trees. She could still see the red and blue flashes but Katara knew they were no longer an issue. There were a few more bumps before they were out on a smoother stretch of road. Taking them towards the cliff sides. The guy drove just a little bit farther down before pulling into an old abandoned gas station.

Katara was quick to release her grip on the guy. Her eyes looked down to the cut and she gasped. Katara pushed herself hard and quickly off the motorcycle.

She thought distance would change the flaming phoenix sitting on top of a skull with a yellow ribbon with the words ‘Fire Nation’ embroidered into it. Shit. How did she not notice she climbed onto the back of a Fire Nation bike.

The driver turned and pulled off his helmet. “Well shit.” Katara felt exposed as golden eyes ran down her body and back up. “I grabbed the fucking ice princess.”

Katara’s jaw dropped. So he knew who she was? Well she certainly knew who he was. A low life fire nation burner. Katara crossed her arms. “Yeah. Well…” Great come back, Kat. Way to leave his knees knocking. “I wouldn’t have gotten on the bike if I knew the lowest of the Fire Nation was the driver.”

The guy smirked and stood from his bike. “And then you would have gotten caught.” He made his way to Katara. “So I guess you could say, I saved you.”

The smirk never left his face. Katara stood her ground but on the inside she was shaking. This guy was hot. (Pun intended) From what Katara could see in the barely moonlit area, his dark hair had a small crease from his helmet, those golden eyes were sparkling with mischievousness. And that smirked warned her, that he was planning something.

Rule #1: Never trust the Fire Nation.

“From what, safely being returned home?” Katara’s shoulders tensed as he leaned farther into her.

“But only after you ratted out who set up the party.” The guy crossed his arms and raised an nonexistent eyebrow. Katara blinked. Nope, it really wasn’t there. He had a scar or something over his left eye. “I don’t think so princess.”

“Why?” Katara crossed and uncrossed her arms a few time. “Did you set it up?”

“Nope.” The guy popped the ‘p’. “But you would blame us… What was it you called me again?” Katara swallowed and bit her lip. She knew not to answer that question. “A burner?”

Katara thought back. She never said burner out loud. Katara’s eyes slitted into a glare. “I never called you that.”

The guy stepped forward again, now, only a mere inch away from her face. When he spoke, hot breath poured over her face. “Out loud.”

Katara felt like she couldn’t breathe as her eyes flickered down to thinned pink lips. A snarl pulled back the left side of his top lip. Katara could see pretty white teeth. “I-I wasn’t thinking it either.”

“Hmm.” Golden eyes told her, they had seen straight thru her. Katara blinked and her eyes slipped close for a half a second to look back down at the pink lips. “Well then do you have someone to come pick you up? Or do you have to get back on ‘the lowest member of the Fire Nation’s bike? So he can take you home safely.”

“You drive up on Southwater turf. You’ll be shot.” Katara said. She let out a breath as the guy took a step back. Her lungs finally functioning again.

“Not if I have the princess of the motorcycle gang on the back of my bike.” The guy chuckled and went back to his bike opening up the compartment to pull out an extra helmet. “Hell, I’ll probably get the fucking royal treatment for bringing you back. Maybe with an escort back to my side.”

Katara rolled her eyes. “Give me a sec.” Katara fished out her phone to call Suki.

‘Can’t come to the phone so just leave a message.’

Katara’s head dropped at the message tone. “Hey Suki. I guess with you not answering means that you and Sokka either got caught or you and Sokka left the party to go party naked. Gross.” Katara ended the phone call. She turned back around to see the guy holding out the helmet. “Take off your cut. It’ll be easier to get into town.”

“Nu-uh” the guy shook his head. “Call daddy dearest and get me a clearance.”

“My dad will kill me if he knows that I’m out with a Fire Nation.” Katara ripped the helmet from his hands. “Take off the cut.”

“I’m not taking off my jacket.” The guy crossed his arms.

Katara groaned and hit the speed dial for her dad. Immediately cringing when he answered on the first ring.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“An abandoned gas station on the cliff sides.” Katara bit her lip when she heard a growl. This was unmarked territory. A white flag zone. A neutral playground.

“What? I’ll get Sangok to come get you.”

“No.” Katara jumped at how loud her own voice was. “I mean there’s no need. I have a ride. I just…” Katara looked over her shoulder to the boy leaning against the bike. “I need you to clear the streets, from here to home.”

“Why?” Her dad grumbled. “Who are you with?”

Katara shrugged and realised she was on the phone. She looked to the guy and mouthed, ‘What’s your name?’ The guy shook his head. She stomped her foot and glared at him. He only shook his head again.

“Katara? Who are you riding with?”

“His uh name is…” Katara looked around them. “It’s Lee.” The guy shook his head with a low chuckle. “Can you just get the streets clear?”

“If he’s just bringing you home. Why do I need to clear the streets?”

Katara wanted to sit down on the road and cry. Stupid territory issues. “He's… Fire Nation.”

There was loud laughter on the other side of her phone. “Sorry. I thought I just heard you say you are getting a ride home from a Fire Nation.”

“I am.” Katara swallowed.

“He has twenty minutes to get you here and out of the limits.” Hakoda growled. There was a click of the phone as he ended the call.

“I’m in so much trouble.” Katara mumbled as she shoved her phone deep into her back pockets. “We’ve got twenty minutes to get me dropped off and you back over the line.”

“Challenge accepted. Nineteen minutes and fifty nine seconds to get Ice Princess home and back to the line.” The guy chuckled and threw his leg over the bike. He shoved his helmet on. “Let’s go.”

Katara sighed in a defeat as she pulled the helmet down and followed Fire Nation boy’s lead and tossed her leg over. Her fingers slid to his side and grabbed the loops there.

“Hold on tight, princess.” The guy’s voice rang thru her helmet. He revved the motor again and took off.

Katara looked over his shoulder. “Uh, Lee?”

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t the way back to my house.” Katara said.

“I know.” The guy picked up speed. “But I’ve got about 18 minutes to get you there.”

Katara hit the top of the guy’s helmet. “Idiot that doesn’t mean you should skate across the line at two minutes and eighteen seconds to drop me off.”

The guy laughed and sped slightly around a bend. “Ah. Live a little, princess.”

He took the long way home. seriously. Katara was so worried and then when four bikes fell into procession, two in front of ‘Lee’s bike and two behind the guy laughed. He followed them to her house and let out a low whistle taking off his helmet.

Katara quickly got off the bike and the guy followed after. There were a few grunts of disapproval from the bikers who had led them here. Hakoda watched as his daughter walked up the stairs and to him.

“Thank you for getting my daughter home safely.” Hakoda growled and took steps down to greet the young man with a hand shake.

The boy grinned, “It’s a pleasure making sure the damsel gets home safe.”

Hakoda tightened his grip around the Fire Nation’s hand. “Then why the fuck did it take you so long getting her here. It only takes eight minutes from those cliffs. And now you’ve only got a minute and forty-five seconds to get off my lawn and back into your district.” The younger nodded and looked around. “You’re burning time there boy.”

“See you around, princess.” ‘Lee’ winks and turns awkwardly waving to Bato as he passes. Before getting on his bike and sliding on his helmet. He waved over shoulder before  revving off into town.

“Want to tell me why you were on the back of a Fire Nation bike?” Her dad’s voice grew more angry. “And like hell he will see you again.”

Katara rolled her guys and pushed past her dad. “I’d rather not say and you,” Katara filled her arm over her shoulder when she looked over to her dad. “will never have control over who I will and will not see in four months.”

“That’s four months from now, Katara. And as long as you are in my house and in the lines of our jurisdiction, you will not see him again.”

“There you go again.” Katara threw her hands up. “I’m not one of your gang buddies dad. I’m you daughter! I’ll obey your house rules but when your not here wh9se rules do I have to follow?!” Katara’s chest was heaving and her eyes were beginning to burn from holding back tears. “Oh that’s right. No one’s because there is no one here when you aren’t.” Hakoda opened and closed his mouth a few times. Katara rolled her eyes exhausted of this conversation. Of today. And especially of this same old argument. “I’m going to bed. Sokka is probably staying over at Suki’s.”

Katara slipped into her bedroom shrugged out of her shorts and bra before sliding into her cool seafoam green sheets. She sighed and looked out her window. Just four more months.

It was three weeks later when Katara saw ‘Lee’ again, at a house party closer at the edge of town.

It was funny how lines blurred when there was a party among the high schoolers. But once you became a member of a mg (motorcycle gang) those lines hardened. Being the daughter, no being in the lineage, of presidential members and/or founding fathers, those lines were drawn in fucking blood. There was no crossing any of those lines. It was drilled into you that those lines were there for a reason.

Which was why Katara had to sneak out in order to get to this party. It was on the Fire Nation side of the city but right on the border of where the two jurisdictions met. The party was in full swing by the time Katara walked up the steps. She could instantly smell the alcohol from here and whatever song was playing on the stereo was rattling the windows.

“Burners!” Someone came stumbling out of the house.Katara quickly moved out of the way as the guy drunkenly stumbled down the steps. There were two guys standing in the doorway. When Katara caught the small scar of ‘Lee’.

“Ah, Ice Princess, was wondering when you’d show up.” The guy laughed and Katara gave an airy fake laugh. “Come on, cops said they won’t hit up the place for another three hours.” ‘Lee’ nodded over his shoulder.

He knew when the cops were gonna show up? Katara followed behind the two guys and when they finally made it into the large kitchen, it was littered with multiple types of alcohol of various different stages of gone. “Wow.”

“Told you, you were late.” The guy chuckled. “What can I get you? Well not me but Jet, here. He’s pretty good with drinks.”

Katara raised an eyebrow. “I’m not drinking tonight. Practice tomorrow.”

Jet nodded and handed her a can of soda. “Wimp.” Katara rolled her eyes as both of the boys filled their cups again.

“If you have practice tomorrow, why come out tonight?” The guy asked and led them through to a backyard. It was scattered with motorcycles and lights.

Katara shrugged. “Princesses don’t get many nights off. And coming here…well.”

“Hmm.” Both of guys hummed.

Jet tilted his head towards a group. “I’m gonna go find Smellerbee. Have fun.” Jet winked.

Katara and ‘Lee’  stood off to the side of the party. A few people called out a name ‘Zuko’ and the guy next to her would nod or raise a hand. That had to be his name right?

“So you practice tomorrow?” Lee or Zuko asked.

“Yeah, eight o’clock.” Katara looked down at her attire. Most of the girls here were in short shorts and some sort of crop top combo. Katara was in her work out leggings and a large hoodie she stole out of Sokka’s closet.

“What kind of practice?”

Katara turned and looked at the guy confused. But they guy looked back at her just as confused. “You mean…” Katara let out a humorless laugh. “You call me Ice Princess because?”

“Your dad is the SouthernWaters MG isn’t he?” The guy shrugged.

“Yeah so?” Katara was swept in by more confusion.

“Isn’t the main patch like a frozen skull or something?”

“Yeah.” Katara was slowly catching on. “So you call me Ice Princess for that and not the… Oh.” Katara ran a hand through her hair. “I thought. Nevermind. It makes sense. Not many people are into figure skating and I’m not well known… I just. Yeah that was a let down. Okay.” Katara took a long drink from her can before grabbing ‘Lee’s cup and emptying its contents into her can. She took another drink and winced at the hard liquor and soda mixture.

“Figure skating?” The guy laughed. “You don’t have to be sober for that.”

Katara raised an eyebrow, “Mmm? So the knives attached to my shoes while moving on one of the most dangerous forms of flooring, doesn’t require me to be sober?”

Golden eyes sparkled with laughter. Damn you Fire Nation and your gorgeous men. “Nah.”

“Zuko! Zu…” Jet came running back over. “Dude, they’re here early.”

“What?” Zuko shook his head. His eyes wide as he looked back to the house. “We have hours!”

“Well maybe they have a different clock?” Jet shrugged. “Dude we just got to get out of here.”

Zuko grabbed Katara’s arms and pulled her through the yard of motorcycles. He threw a helmet at her and jumped on the bike. Katara held onto Zuko as she threw a leg over. Zuko started up the bike and peeled out.

He pulled out the opening of the in back gate and through another yard to the road. Zuko sped through the neighborhood. Katara could hear the sounds of a few other motorcycles behind them. She turned when she saw a flash of blue. Katara tightened her arms around Zuko’s torso and leaned with him as they took a turn. “Zuko. I can’t get caught. Not on this side of the line!”

“On it.” Zuko said through his teeth. “Where’s somewhere I can drop you off?”

Katara thought. If she went to Yue’s she would have to explain to her father. Or if she went to Suki’s, Sokka would definitely tell dad she was on the back of a Fire Nation bike again. She could go to Toph’s but that was sure to come out at the next Great Families meeting. Shit. She needed a neutral territory. Katara looked at the street names. They were getting closer to the highway that led them out of the city. “Take the highway.”

“Okay.” Zuko revved the motor to go faster.”Where are we going?”

“Ba Sing Sei’s Ice Skating Rink.” Katara’s heart picked up speed.

When Zuko pulled up to the back of the building Katara jumped off still wearing the helmet. “Leave it on until we get inside. There are no security cameras in there.” Katara walked to the left side of the building and to an old creaky door. She jiggled the handle and banged twice above the doorknob before shoving open the door. “We have really got to fix these doors.” She turned to Zuko still leaning on the bike. “Come on.”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t think so Ice Princess.”

“Lee. Come on!” Katara waved him over again.

“You know my name now. You can use it.” Zuko grumbled. “I got you here safely.

Katara popped her hip. “And my name isn’t Ice Princess. So come on already. I don’t feel like going home yet and you know you really don’t want to either.” Katara bit her lip, knowing he couldn’t see it. “Come on breaking and entering is totally your thing.”

Katara was pretty sure she heard a growl before Zuko walked his bike close to the building and kicked out the kick stand. “Let me make this clear. I am not skating.” Zuko lifted the visor to glare at Katara. Katara only smirked and shoved the visor back closed.

Katara turned on all of the lights. Found a pair of rentals for Zuko and her old skates in her locker. They were well worn but they would do for a little while. Katara pulled a boombox out of one the storage sheds and flicked through CDs. Once she got back Zuko was sitting in a seat with his phone out. Skates not on his feet.

“Zuko come on.” Katara drawled out. She set down the boombox and flicked through a few more CDs. “Oh my gosh!” Katara quickly put in the CD.

‘Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk?I didn’t mean to call you thatI can’t remember what was said or what you threw at me’

“What the hell are we listening to?” Zuko turned to the stereo.

Katara rolled her eyes and pointed to the skates. “Put them on Zuko.”

“I told you I’m not skating.” Zuko leaned back in the seat.

‘The smoke alarm is going off, and there’s a cigaretteStill burning’

“Just put on the skates.” Katara took a deep breath and pouted her bottom lip. “Please.”

Zuko mumbled and reached for the skates. “Okay what’s with the song?”

“I used it for a short once.” Katara laughed and took of the blade protectors on her skates.

“A short?” Zuko’s eyebrows creased in confusion, as he buckled on the first skate.

“Yeah.” Katara did small stretches beside the rink. Leaning over the boards to loosen some muscles in her back. “A short program. It’s about two minutes long. You know a couple of jumps and spins.” Katara mentally ticked off a few things as she stretched her legs. “Pretty much it’s the technical skate. And never nearly as fun as free skate.”

“Free skate?” Zuko leaned up from where he finished buckling his shoes.

“Mhmm,” Katara turned and looked at him with a smile. Pretty close to just doing whatever I want for four minutes.” Katara shook her head. “Which that’s actually a lie. You don’t have required jumps or spins like you do in short programs.”

“So what did this one look like?” Zuko asked, as he walked towards her on unsteady feet.

“Meh.” Katara shrugged, “It was my senior debut and it slightly crashed and burned.” Katara opened the boards to the court. “My instructor said to ‘leave the eros and ludus to the men. Agape is much more your style.’”

“Meaning?” Zuko raised an eyebrow.

Katara slid out onto the ice. She spun slightly. “Meaning ‘Leave being sexy and sauve to the men sweetheart. Women are supposed to be graceful and gentle.’” Katara held out a hand to Zuko, which he batted away. “Of course I also wore this cute little red and black outfit. It had studs and gosh. I wish I could steal squeeze into it.” Katara looked off dazed. “I wonder if we can get it remade?”

Zuko slid onto the ice clutching at the short wall. “Sounds cute.”

“It was super cute. I’ll show you a picture sometime.” Katara shrugged.

“And why do you think that we will ever see each other again?” Zuko looked over his shoulder trying to move one foot.

Katara giggled and slid to the boards in front of him. “Because you like to pick up Ice Princesses from parties that are about to be busted.”

Zuko grumbled and slid his two feet. “How the fuck do you make this look easy?”

“Years of practice.” Katara did a spin. “Oh my gosh I love this song!” Katara hummed along to the music.

‘She paints her nails and she don’t know

He’s got her best friend on the phone

She’ll wash her hair

His dirty clothes’

“What is up with this playlist?” Zuko stood a little straighter but wobbled slightly and tightly gripped the wall again.

“Mmm.” Katara skated backwards. “I really loved alternative. I wanted to go into senior known for doing rough and rowdy, eros. I had this whole rebel look going for me too.”

“Ha.” Zuko laughed out bitterly.

“That’s what dad said too.” Katara crossed her arms. “I could still totally do it.”

“Sure, Princess.” Zuko nodded and bit his lip.

‘He’s too stoned, Nintendo

I wish that I could make her see

She’s just the flavor of the weak’

Katara skated away from him and did a few laps quickly. Before sliding in front of him, kicking up a small amount of ice. “You ready yet?”

“For what?” Zuko still held onto the boards only about half way around the rink.

“To skate away from the wall?” Katara grinned and held out her hands.

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Wall is steady.”

Katara laughed, “Come on. You drive a motorcycle. You know balance.”

“Yeah but on a bike I don’t have, what was that you called it?” Zuko looked over at her. “Boots with knives and the most dangerous surface known to mankind?”

Katara shook her head and wiggled her fingers. “I did. But you like taking risks. So come on.”

Zuko grumbled again and took her hand in a crushing grip. “You keep telling me what I like to do.”

Katara laughed and tried to wiggle her fingers in Zuko’s death grip. “Now the other one.” Zuko reluctantly let go and grabbed her other hand. “There you go.” Katara smiled brightly. “Now your right foot. Good. Left foot. Good. Right again. Perfect. Now glide.”

Katara talked him through. He learned pretty quick and his balance was really good. He only stumbled a few times and his fingers loosened around hers. They made it around once and she let go and clapped for him. Zuko’s hands latched onto the boards beside them.

Zuko laughed, “I did.” He still clung to the boards until Katara lifted out a hand again. “And I didn’t fall on my ass.”

“You didn’t.” Katara shook her head with a bright smile. “You’re going to be my pairs partner in no time.”

Zuko’s golden eyes widened. “The fuck is…”

“Going on in here!” A loud voice boomed through the hollowed arena, causing Zuko to lose balance and fall backwards on his ass.

Katara turned quickly to see her dad stomping down the stairs. She quickly reached for Zuko and began pulling him up. Her fingers trembling. “Dad! I can…”

“Get off the ice.” Hakoda stopped the music from filtering into the room. “Now!”

Katara pulled Zuko up and pulled him across the ice on still wobbling feet. She helped Zuko out first before stepping out and closing the door to the rink. Hakoda handed her, her blades protectors. Katara could practically feel the anger rolling off her father. “Dad…”

“Lee.” Hakoda threw a glare to the younger male. Zuko’s back straightened. “Get the hell out.”

“Yes, sir.” Zuko nodded and sent Katara a sympathetic look. He leaned over and quickly tucked a hair behind her ear and leaned in. “Next time. I’ll be able to do it without you holding my hand.” Katara felt a warmth spread on her cheeks. Zuko winked and grabbed the two helmets on the seats. “Night, mister.”

“Fuck off, burner.” Hakoda growled and then turned to his daughter when he heard the door close. “The fuck were you thinking?”

“There was this party…” Katara rung her hands on her shirt.

“I ain’t talking about you sneaking out to go to some dumb party. I mean you coming here with a Fire Nation, with a burner, and skating after spirits knows how many beers and drugs he did before he got to the party.” Hakoda crossed his arms over his chest. “And then you get on his bike and you come here. What if he would have crashed or taken you through Fire Nation territory or hurt you or…”

Katara slowly began to feel her blood boil as he counted off the ‘what ifs’. “Yeah, and did they?”

“Excuse me?”

“Am I hurt?” Katara tilted her head, “Do I look like I have been roughed up and sexed? Do I look like I drank or smoked or snorted?” Katara gave a humorless laugh. “No? Well that’s probably be because none of that happend. Zuko isn’t like the others. He had fun and he knows his limits. He…”

“Zuko?” Hakoda said Zuko’s name like a horrible taste. “Zuko Sparks?”

“I don’t know his last name…” Katara shrugged.

“You told me his name was Lee and now your telling me you’ve gotten on the back of Zuko Spark’s bike twice now?!” Hakoda took in a deep breath. “The heir to the Fire Nation Motorcycle Gang.”

“Wha…” Katara’s eyes widened and shook her head. No way.

There was no way that Zuko was the heir to the rival motorcycle gang. There was no way on this gods forsaken planet that Zuko, gorgeous, golden eyed, funny, amazing, savior of parties, was to take over the Fire Nation.

“Get your stuff.” Hakoda mumbled. “The car is running.”

[sodokachi]

Green meets Blue

MariChat May 25th: Akumatized Chat

(ao3)

Summary: Marinette tries and fails to protect her identity.

I apologize for the Ooc-ness is this.

"Why are you dating him?" Chat asked, his voice sounding distinctly bitter.

Marinette blinked at the boy in confusion. He showed up without any fanfare and then demanded to know why she was going on a date. How did he even know about it?

"Is there any reason you need to know?" She asked flatly.

His expression flickered into something angry for a moment before fading back to something more neutral. "Just tell me." His own voice flat.

She frowned. "No. It's not your business who I date." With that said she went back to drawing out her designs.

Chat lips thinned into a line. "Dating him for the pretty face, eh?" He asked dryly

She tensed up and spun around to face him again. "Shut up." She growled.

His eyes flashed. Seems like he hit a nerve. "I didn't really take you for that kind of girl."

Marinette grit her teeth. "I always took you for a good for nothing mangy cat." She retorted.

Chat frowned. "Is that what you really think of me...?" He looked almost hurt.

"Yes." She snapped and once again tried to return to her work, though instead she ended up glaring at it.

Chat's eyes darkened further. "Very well then." He shook his head and left.

Marinette grimaced and looked to where he had been standing. "Good job Marinette." She muttered self-depreciatingly.

The window to Chat's bathroom cracked when he slammed it shut. He became Adrien as he walked into his room. Plagg almost immediately started wedeling him for cheese. To silence him Adrien tore his ring off and tossed it to the floor. It hit the ground with a clatter of ringing noises as it rolled under his bed.

He sat down at his desk and flipped on the screens. When he saw Ladybug plastered across them he screamed and smashed his hands down on his desk. His fist's throbbed with pain as he seethed.

A black butterfly floated through his window and landed on one of his fists.

"Greetings, Heartbreaker. In return-"

"Yes. I agree." Adrien hissed.

Hawkmoth chuckled. "Very well, go and get me Chat Noir and Ladybug's Miraculous! Heartbreaker!"

Black energy consumed Adrien's body and left behind a black leather suited boy with a dark red cracked heart in the middle of his chest.

The boy, Heartbreaker, clenched his fist in front of him. His fist glowed darkly. "I'll show the world how it feels to have your heart ripped apart!" He slammed his fist into the desk again. This time the desk simply broke apart.

He grinned at his power. "First things first though, Marinette, your little boy toy-" He chuckled darkly. "-is going to get a visit."

Marinette woke with a start and noticed her phone blowing up with notifications. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes as she grabbed it and unlocked it.

She groaned when she realized they were from the Ladyblog.

"What is it Marinette?" Tikki asked from the little nest of fabrics she used as a bed.

"An akuma." Marinette slowly sat up. "It's one in the morning and there’s a freaking akuma."

Tikki looked at her in concern. "There's never been one this late before."

Marinette shook her head. "We've been lucky so far." She stood fully and went to get dressed.

"I hope Chat realizes that there's an akuma." Tikki murmured.

"Let’s hope he gets notifications like I do." Marinette said.

Finished getting dressed, Marinette quickly transformed and headed to where the reports were saying the akuma was.

Ladybug surveyed the destruction with trepidation.

The couple of people that had apparently been around when the akuma had shown himself lie on the ground crying. If that wasn't creepy enough the ground had shards of glowing red and black crystal scattered on it.

Alya was trying to console a woman on the ground. Ladybug only realized it was the girl's mother when she got closer.

"Maman, things are going to be alright. I promise." Alya said soothingly. Her mother just shook her head and continued to cry.

"Alya, do you know what the akuma's power is? Or where it went?" Ladybug asked softly.

Alya looked up with relief. "Thank god your here." She shook her head as if to clear it. "I don't know where he went," She look apologetic. "But his powers..." Alya shuddered.

Ladybug frowned. "Are you alright? You look pale."

Alya nodded. "I'm fine. He's called Heartbreaker and can do what the name implies." She then gestured to the crystals. "Those are what remains afterwards."

Ladybug paled as she looked at the huge amount of crystal lying on the street. "Are all of those...?"

Alya swallowed and closed her eyes. "All of them." She confirmed.

Ladybug shook herself. "Okay then." She turned determined eyes on Alya. "I'm going to fix this. Try to get somewhere safe, alright?"

Alya nodded and went to prod her mother into going inside the nearest building.

Ladybug frowned, where could a guy called Heartbreaker be?

Heartbreaker grinned maliciously as he left the bakery. The tears he could still hear from behind him made him feel powerful. He had looked around for Marinette and she hadn't been there so he took the price of her missing out on her poor ignorant parents.

He smiled crookedly as he gazed forward. "So there you are, Ladybug." He tilted his head and held out his arms like he wanted a hug. "Miss me?" He jeered.

Ladybug was looking straight through him. She could hear the cry’s from where she stood. She grit tears of her own back, took a deep breath, and turned to face Heartbreaker.

"Miss you?" She shook her head in disgust. "I don't even know you."

His smile thinned. "Oh but you do-" She cut him off by flinging her yoyo in an arc around him.

He chuckled as he dodged to the side. "So predictable little bug."

She growled and pulled her yoyo back. "Lucky Charm!" She yelled and threw her yoyo in the air. The charm dropped into her hands.

"Really." She stated flatly. "What in the world am I supposed to do with a bar of chocolate?!" She yelled in frustration.

Heartbreaker laughed. "Chocolate, oh that’s rich." He laughed harder.

She ignored him and looked around for a way to use her charm.

He smirked and waited patiently with his arms folded across his chest.

She glared at him and huffed. "I'll just do this the old fashioned way." She moved towards him and flung her yoyo forward again.

He smirked and flicked the yoyo back at her.

Ladybug rubbed her head. "You... you hit me in the head with my own yoyo." She glared at him.

"You're so easy to predict, My Lady." He smirked and blew on his fingernails.

Ladybug froze. "What did you just call me?"

"You still haven't figured it out?" He laughed cruelly. "How purrfect."

Ladybug shook her head. "There's no way..."

"That I'm Chat Noir?" He smirked. "Sorry to bust your bubble, Princess, but I'm the real deal."

"P-princess?" She stuttered out, dread filling her. "Y-you've never c-called me that-"

"Come on Marinette." He placed his head in his hand, his fingers covered his left eye, and smirked. "You're not fooling anybody." Another crooked grin.

Ladybug stared at him in terror. "Was... did I cause this?"

He glared at her. "Yes, you did." He stalked towards her. "And now you're going to feel the same thing I did when you ripped my heart to pieces."

Ladybug dodged backwards as he lunged at her. She quickly threw her yoyo out and swung onto the rooftop behind her.

Heartbreaker glared at her.

"All I did was date someone why...?"

Heartbreaker snarled. "You turned me down so you could go out with some pretty boy!"

Ladybug shook her head. "You never even asked me out!"

At her words Heartbreaker's chest seemed to glow darker. "How dare you...!" He snarled

Ladybug watched, terrified, as red streaks came from all over the city and slammed into Heartbreaker's chest. They finally came to a stop just as two streaks came from her parent’s bakery.

Ladybug gaped. "Did you just absorb all those people hearts?"

He glared at her. "Why do you care...?" He blinked and then smiled victoriously.

"Of course I care!" She frowned. "You care too, Chat."

He chuckled. "It's Heartbreaker and-" He pointed at her. "-I seemed to have distracted you long enough."

Ladybug's hand went to her earing. Her eyes widened when she realized she was too late.

A flash and Marinette stood where Ladybug had been. Tikki floated down into Marinette's waiting palms. "Sorry Tikki." She murmured to the sleeping Kwami. "It looks like I've failed."

"That you have." She looked up and startled when she realized he was already on the roof.

She needed a way to distract him. "So why did you absorb those hearts? Some sort of powerup?" she prodded.

"Something like that." He moved forward and Marinette moved back until her back hit a chimney. "I think it's time I make you suffer for making me feel this way."

Marinette squeaked when his hand gripped her throat. "How about you tell me what I did first!"

He hummed. "I already told you. You turned me down and then went out with some brat instead."

"But I didn't..." She froze at his slowly angering expression. "I don't remember that. Please tell me." She begged softly.

He considered her for a moment. "I suppose I can. I have all the power after all, but first." He grasped her ear with his other hand and pulled out her earing. He then repeated the task on her other ear. "There, no more Ladybug."

Marinette couldn't hold back her tears. She had lost.

"Oh come on. Don’t you want to know where you went wrong?" He seemed almost gentle now.

The girl nodded.

"It was probably because you made me fall for you." He chuckled at her forlorn expression. "Really though, it was because you turned me down last week like it was nothing and then had the guts to ask out some random kid instead of me."

She blinked in confusion. "How could I have asked you out if I already turned you down?"

He looked condescendingly at her. "You turned me down as Adrien, Marinette, not Chat."

"Oh." She said softly.

"I thought that you had a crush on Adrien and it would have been simpler to date as ourselves. Yet you had no hesitation in dismissing me and my feelings."

"I was trying to get over you. Adrien you." She grimaced and tried to take deeper breaths as his hand had loosened a bit. "I didn't think Chat had feelings for me at all." She shook her head slightly. "If I had known..." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry Chat."

He blinked at her in surprise and the heart on his chest pulsed red. "You're sorry? Wait are you saying that if I confessed to you as Chat...?" He didn't seem to be able to continue.

She looked him in the eye. "I had, have, feelings for both sides of you." His grip on her neck loosened further. "I shouldn't have tried to get over Adrien you by dating some random guy." He let go of her. "I-" She took a deep breath. "-love you." She pulled him towards her and kissed him square on the lips.

He froze and the heart on his chest seemed to pulse rapidly before glowing brighter than ever as he started kissing her back.

Marinette's eyes widened when his akumatized state collapsed and the akuma came flying out of his chest.

Adrien's confused eyes stared back at her.

Wasting no time Marinette grabbed her earrings from Adrien and put them back on. She transformed and purified the akuma and was surprised by the Lucky Charm sitting on the ground from earlier. One Miraculous Ladybug later and she could feel the soreness leave her neck.

She turned to see Adrien sobbing quietly into his knees.

She pulled him into a hug. "Shh. I forgive you." Adrien just shook his head. "Fine." She smiled at him. "I love you, Adrien, Chat."

He looked up at her in surprise and she took the moment to reconnect their lips.

Everything else would eventually need to be dealt with, but for now Ladybug was just glad that Adrien was alright.